


Sunsets on the Grass

by Alliswell



Series: Sunsets on the Grass Universe [1]
Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst with a Happy Ending, Coming of Age, Don’t blame the guy, EFE 2020, F/M, Friends to Lovers, He’s trying his best!, Mr. Everdeen is alive, My Quarantine Attempts at Writing!!!, No Underage Sex, Older Man/Younger Woman, Peeta will be in denial for a beat, Slow Burn, So slow burn!, Which makes Katniss OOC, slowish burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-13
Updated: 2021-02-24
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:00:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 91,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24167002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alliswell/pseuds/Alliswell
Summary: Katniss has been in love with a man 18 years her senior most of her life; her patience, resilience and selflessness will conquer all odds.Everlark Fic ExchangePrompt 67by animekpopxx:Her parents said that it was just a childhood crush and that she will outgrow it. But why does her heart flutters. When she’s finally old enough to get a job, she immediately gets a part time job to be close to him. Will is pursue her love against people’s negative views because he’s so much older than her. Or go for it and make him fall in love with her. Age Gap Older!Peeta.I tweaked the Title of the Fic from the one I gave it on Tumblr...
Relationships: Annie Cresta/Finnick Odair, Katniss Everdeen/Gale Hawthorne, Katniss Everdeen/Peeta Mellark, Mr. Everdeen/Mrs. Everdeen (Hunger Games), Peeta Mellark/Other(s)
Series: Sunsets on the Grass Universe [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2009266
Comments: 470
Kudos: 223
Collections: Everlark Fic Exchange - Springtime 2020





	1. Francine

**Author's Note:**

  * For [anime1angel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/anime1angel/gifts).



> I do not own THG.
> 
> This fic has not been betaed, and mistakes will abound... pay them no mind, unless you’re gonna help me out pre-reading 😊

It was a very cold day; Mama made us wear hats and gloves and clunky snow boots, but the worst offender in my 8 year old opinion, was the fact she forced me to wear a fleece over my long sleeve shirt with the sparkly pink hearts, and then a heavy winter coat to top it all, covering my favorite outfit that happened to be perfectly apt for the month of February... who had time to worry about layering for the weather, when Valentine’s Day gave us the perfect excuse to wear mushy, pink, glittery hearts in public?!

Prim had just turned four recently, and Daddy decided she was finally old enough to sit through a movie at the theater with us ‘grown ups’ like a big girl. Normally, he would’ve let Prim pick the movie, since it was her first time joining us, but when we got to the theater, I begged to see Bridge to Terabithia, because all the girls in my class had a crush on the main character actor, some Josh Hutcher-something or another, and I really wanted to see what the fuss was about with the boy.

Well, none of my little girlfriends bothered to tell me the movie was so darned sad!

Prim wailed and sobbed despite not really understanding what happened in the story. All she knew was that Mama sniffled and dabbed at the corner of her blue eyes with a wadded-up napkin, and that was enough for her to let her tears fall freely, clinging to Daddy’s neck until hiccups raked her tiny frame.

At the end of the movie, Mama’s eyes were red rimmed but she at least was done sniffling. Daddy and I just sat there stoically, like the hardened leaders of our small clan, we were… if my lips trembled, it had nothing to do with the sap fest we just endured.

Daddy sighed, “Some movies should come with disclaimers.” He grumbled, adjusting Prim on his hip while pulling open the exit door.

“I thought it was great. The young actors were marvelous. Such range of emotion...” Mama gushed, before wiping the corner of her eye daintily. “I’d recommend it to other people, personally.”

Daddy gave her a look, and then Mama amended, “With a warning for grief and depression.” Her lips formed a thin line, but Daddy seemed satisfied, so we walked into the frigid February afternoon and winced in unison as soon as the cold hit our faces.

Prim was still intermittently sobbing.

“Primrose, honey, will a treat help you cheer up some?” Daddy asked quietly, tenderly caressing her cheek.

My baby sister nodded, her pitiful big o’ blue eyes shining with unshed tears.

“Let’s get you a nice treat then. Let’s take advantage of those neatly shoveled sidewalks our tax money afforded us.” Said Daddy smiling sweetly, his gray eyes twinkling.

We crossed the street and kept on going until we reached the square a block away and then hesitated for a second in front of the ice cream parlor, finally settling for the quaint little bakery two doors down.

Immediately, my cheeks warmed up and I tried to walk with my back a little straighter, just in case a certain baker boy was working that day. My heart rattled against my ribs and I tried real hard to keep my eyes up, but as usual, chickened out last minute and all I could see was the ground.

Daddy walked in making the bell above the entrance chimed cheerfully; he held the door open so Mama and I could scoot into the building. We all stood just inside the door, taking a collective sigh of relief at the warmth and inviting aromas of the bakery: Yeast, sugar and freshly brewed coffee mingled in the air, welcoming.

“Afternoon Everdeens!” Called a deep, velvety and familiar voice from somewhere ahead. “Come on in and make yourselves at home, please!” Mister Peeta smiled, like us, walking into his family’s shop was the highlight of his day.

It surely was mine, of course; not that anyone would’ve been able to tell just by how gun-shy I acted, except from my parents that is.

They knew alright.

They knew all about my crush on the young baker, and at least Mama thought it was cute. Daddy wasn’t too comfortable acknowledging it, so he usually rolled his eyes at Mama about it.

But who wouldn’t have a thing for mister Peeta, really? He was nice, polite, and handsome, with a soft looking face and bright blue eyes, always smiling, and wavy blond hair that curled under the many baseball caps he wore (currently, he donned one with the Mellark’s logo on the front.). He was also strong… or at least I figured he had to be, since he was school wrestling champion and all. I hadn’t witnessed it myself of course, mister Peeta and my folks were ancient compared to me, but I grew up hearing the stories.

Mama and Daddy had been high school sweethearts who’d been in the same grade as mister Rye— mister Peeta’s older brother— so they knew the Mellark brothers some. Daddy said Mr. Peeta was the pride of the town as a teenager, since he became State Wrestling champion in his senior year of high school, a full two years after my folks graduated Panem  
high.

“How are you doing, Peeta?” Said Daddy reaching a hand over the counter to shake the baker’s.

Mama waved and smiled, offering her own little “Hello, Peeta.” Then nudged me to do the same, and my eyes about popped out of my sockets when the baker smiled and winked one of his bright, blue eyes at me.

“I heard you’re leaving for Europe soon?” Asked Daddy.

Mister Peeta smiled widely, “Yes! Got accepted to study pastistry at a prestigious school in France. I can’t wait.” His excitement was contagious.

“That’s great, Peeta!” Interjected my mama. “I bet your folks are pleased. The bakery will boom with everything you’ll bring back with that training.”

Mister Peeta nodded, and though he was still smiling, he didn’t look happy. “Full scholarship ride, and I came up with my own ticket and expenses money from a year’s worth of savings. My mother is really pleased.”

For some reason, it didn’t sound like Mrs Mellark was truly pleased. Not for the first time, I thought adults could be so weird when they talked, not saying what they truly meant.

Still, Mama and Daddy offered congratulations again and I felt my stomach knot when Mister Peeta spoke again, and for once my eyes were glued to his kind face.

“Enough about me. Y’all came in right on time,” Mister Peeta clapped his enormous hands once, “I just pulled a tray of cheese buns out of the oven, and sat them to cool on a rack in the back. Let me go grab y’all some. I heard cheese buns are Miss Katniss’ favorites!”

I almost choked at that, and turned my head owlishly to glare at my parents, wondering who’d spilled my secrets behind my back to the handsomest man ever.

Mama was already sitting at a table; she was covering her smile behind the gloves she just pulled off her hands, while Daddy rolled his eyes slightly before sliding into the bench with Prim still wrapped around him like a baby Koala.

So Mama then. She tattled on me.

Traitor!

At Daddy’s behest, I came and sat next to him; Prim on his lap, and all of our coats in the space next to Mama on the opposite side of the half booth.

Mister Peeta came back with a tray bearing hot chocolate in white mugs engraved with ‘Mellark’s’, and a dish piled high with pastries. He placed four small plates in front of each of us, and gifted us with one more of his wide, welcoming grins.

“Tuck in, Everdeens! Enjoy!” The bell above the door chimed with more customers, but right before he left, mr. Peeta leaned closer to me and suggested, “Dip your bread in the chocolate. Is my favorite snack on cold days like today.” He winked again and I almost fainted.

He truly was the handsomest man ever!

Mama’s smile just widened. She tried to hide it behind her cup of cocoa though, but Daddy let out a noise, like a grudgingly amused grunt of sorts.

“Lily,” He warned halfheartedly.

Mama looked up at him, wide, blue eyes innocently. “What?” She mumbled.

“Stop teasing.” He said, sinking his straight teeth into his cheese bun. “She's too young for crushes. Even on bakers that make amazing cookies and cheese buns. Ain’t that right, Catkin?” Daddy looked at me, arching one bushy eyebrow.

I scowled and turned my nose up at the lot of them before tearing chunks of my bun and dunking them in my hot chocolate. At the first bite, I had to admit, the baker was onto something!

“I don’t know what y’all are yapping about,” I said haughtily.

“There you go,” said Daddy grinning smugly at Mama, “That’s my girl!”

Mama rolled her eyes and waved us off. “Oh well, it’s just puppy love. She’ll grow out of it soon enough, especially when he’s away in Paris and out of sight.”

I chewed on my chocolate infused cheese bun, and my eyes lifted to watch mister Peeta bagging a customer's order, taking payment with a grateful smile.

My heart drummed harshly in my chest.

I had no idea what the love of puppies had to do with anything, but I found it hard to believe the strange feeling of bubbles popping in my tummy would go away any time soon, even if I didn't see the baker ever again.

* * *

My 16th birthday brought me a set of wheels, in the form of my daddy’s ancient but still reliable pick-up truck. But with the wheels, came Daddy’s caveats.

“Young lady, if you want to be driving around town, here are the rules,” he stated, “You gotta drive your sister to and from school. No boys—“

“Or girls!” Interjected Mama, passing to the couch with a bowl of popcorn in hand.

“Or girls,” Daddy continued glaring at Mama, “Unless Mama or I are in the truck with y’all.”

That one earned him a big groan from me, not that I’d planned on having friends ride with me places; after all, Gale had been driving his daddy’s old Jeep for the last two years, and Madge just got a new Volkswagen Beetle for her birthday, despite having failed her driving tests… twice! So we all had our own transportation, thank you very much.

“And, you are to keep the tank of the truck at least half full at all times.”

“Alright. That’s cool—“ I started, but was swiftly interrupted.

“What your daddy means is, Sweet pea, you are responsible for your own gas. We won’t pay for it, unless it’s an emergency.” Said Mama delicately, her eyes shifting to Daddy’s for support, which he gave in a curt nod of his graying head.

“Wait… what?” I stared at them in turn. “You mean I need to come up with my own gas money?” I asked just to clarify. “Even while having to chauffeur Prim around, like I’m a courtesy shuttle driver?”

“Lily, our daughter is a genius!” Said Daddy with his goofy dad smirk, “Haven’t I said so a million times before?”

Mama giggled, “You sure have, Dear. Our Katniss is one bonafide genius!”

Truth be told, the prospect of having spending money of my own was actually exciting for me. We lived a decent life, not luxurious like the Undersee’s, or as tight as the Hawthorne’s, but comfortable enough to always have a pocketful of allowance dough; but having my actual money, without having to ask for it or justify why I needed it, was very appealing to me.

I still groaned at my folks for their exuberance. I didn’t mind working hard; I’ve always helped Daddy doing house work around our place, and never complained about the daily chores imposed by Mama growing up; having an honest to God paying job sounded kind of… liberating. Like I was an adult, instead of a kid.

“You should try the shops in town,” Mama suggested. “Something close by that won’t interfere with school—“

“Or archery club—“ Father chimed in.

“Or soccer.” Said Prim crossing the room out of nowhere and plopping on the couch next to Mama, to munch on her popcorn. The demand was for her, since I didn’t play the sport. “I can’t miss practice. Rue would have a fit if I get kicked out.”

“Fine! I’ll go ask around town if anyone needs help.” I made a show of rolling my eyes and shrugging, but inside, my blood quickened with the excitement of my impending job hunt.

Twenty eight hours later, I was stumbling out of the Sweet’s store in town square, walking backwards and grinning like a lunatic.

“Thank you so much, Ms. Donner! Really. You won’t regret it! Thank you again!” I gushed and barely repressed a squeal of excitement, “I’ll see you Monday. Bye!”

I had to grab on to the frame of the open door, not to fall on my bottom like an uncoordinated noodle when I tripped on my own feet, and finally pulled myself away from the store front. I turned on my heel and practically skipped down the sidewalk, giggling non-stop. I managed to reel it in and climbed on my truck before pumping the air with my fists in a tiny victory dance.

Everything was coming up Katniss, and my spirits soared high!

I got myself a job, and while it wasn’t my first option— Mr. Mellark said his bakery was fully staffed at the time— I had effectively secured myself a source of gas money, which was my main concern and the literal driving force behind my job hunt. I counted as a perk, the fact that Mellark’s Bakery was sitting across the square from the Sweet Shop and I was granted an unobstructed view of the front room of the bakery from behind my counter, because watching the Mellark men working was just inspiring. And I meant that in a non creepy way… hopefully.

I tried not to be as obvious with my crush on Mr. Peeta, but I wasn’t deaf and his mama— dubbed The Witch, by the town youngsters— enjoyed bragging loudly about her successful business, and a good chunk of that came from Peeta’s success as a baker. I pretty much knew anything a nosy sixteen year old girl could know about a guy almost twenty years her senior, hoarding all kinds of gossip about him like a dragon hoards gold.

Being only a few years younger than my own father, Mister Peeta graduated from Panem U when I was a toddler. He earned a business degree he’d really never used; then, he went to Paris-France for almost three years, and trained with the best chefs in the pastry business, returning to our small town to open up his own high end patisserie, but since the economy had taken a dive those days and his shop was so new and fancy, he was forced to close up and take over the cakes and pastry side of Mellark’s, until things stabilized for new businesses. Sadly, he never ventured back on his own, which was a downright shame, because the man was a culinary genius and so artistic at that.

Currently, he worked weekend’s at Mellark’s while teaching at the Pastry school in Capitol City… not that I was keeping tabs on the man or anything.

I was just observant that way…

Sort of.

Mrs. Mellark liked to boast about things she had no hand in doing, like her youngest son’s accomplishments and success abroad and locally, but she was also a ruthless disparager who couldn’t care less when and where she criticized her sons or husband when something didn’t go her way. The Witch was always going on and on about Mr. Peeta going to France and becoming an expert cake decorator, and teaching pastrity at some hoity-toity culinary school in Capitol City, as if she herself had done it for him, and in the next breath she’d be groaning about how much of an inconvenience to her it was he went overseas for the training. The woman was a hag, but I couldn’t help people in town were so gossipy and when she started with the stories. I just perked up my ears and gobbled up all the information she was sharing.

Anyway, my mama’s prediction about my infatuation with Mr. Peeta ending, kind of flopped. The crushed endured all the years between his absence to Europe and his return; it was still going strong even at age sixteen, but I had learned to pine discreetly, surreptitiously sneaking peeks at mister Peeta from a distance and daydream about scenarios where the handsome baker finally noticed me, and we fell madly in love with each other and lived happily ever after in a marzipan house, eating all kinds of bread and cake without ever gaining an ounce of weight… Also, in those scenarios, Mr. Peeta was like ten years younger, and nobody batted an eye at us being together.

Of course, I wasn’t delusional. I knew nothing like it would ever happen; after all, Mr. Peeta was eighteen years older than me and devoted to his craft. But dreaming was free, and as long as the fantasies stayed locked in my head, I wasn’t hurting anyone but myself.

* * *

  
My first Saturday morning working at the Candy shop, I parked in the public parking lot, diagonal to the town square, before opening time. The lot was built adyacente to a few city offices to accommodate anyone running errands downtown, like paying their license tags, filing taxes, getting permits of miscellaneous natures, or simply taking a stroll around the square at dusk, licking on a frozen treat from the ice cream parlor or having dinner at the pizza place. It wasn’t too much of a stretch to park there if one worked in one of the mom-and-pop shops littering the picturesque merchant center of Panem.

I could’ve used the designated parking spaces on the road behind the sweets store, but there was a humongous dumpster next to ours, and Ms. Donner hadn’t given me a key to the back door yet, so even if the threadbare upholstery of my truck wasn’t threatening to absorb the stench of the whole neighborhood’s trash, there wasn’t any benefit to me parking there.

I yawned dispassionately tossing my keys in the new purse Prim gave me when I announced I’d found a job, because according to her, I was now a grown-up and needed a proper purse instead of my ratty messenger bag, that honestly had seen better days. I swept the bag off the bench and slammed the door shut without bothering to lock it. There was nothing in the cab worth stealing; everyone knew me and my folks, we were just another run of the mill middle class family, without any wealth to our names.

“Ouch!” A velvety, deep voice spoke from a little ways over, and my whole body went rigidly straight. “Shouldn’t treat your steed so harshly, Hunter. I don’t think old Francine appreciates it.”

I turned on my heels and peered at Mr. Peeta trying to keep myself from screeching in a panic or something equally embarrassing.

The man was just straightening up from retrieving a chef jacket from the back seat of what I surmised was his car, and lifted his gaze in my direction with a slight smirk on his lips that quickly fell off, giving way to a confused expression, as his bright, blue eyes fixed on mine. “You ain’t Hunter,” he mumbled, squinting a little.

To his credit, it had been a while since he saw me last, despite me keeping tabs on him and stealing glances when I could. He had no reason to seek me out or anything, plus he was a busy man, always in the back room of the bakery working his pastillage gifts. Then again… ‘Francine’— my daddy’s former ‘89 F150– was like forever linked to Hunter Everdeen’s persona or something.

“Katniss?” Mr. Peeta frowned, like fog was slowly lifting from his mind and vague recognition finally set in, making my heart lurch and beat unbearably fast.

I nodded mutely, but soon I answered a spastic, “Morning, mister Peeta. How do you do?” My mama hadn’t drilled sixteen years worth of relentless Southern hospitality for me to stay silent for long. I hesitated a second and trudged along without giving him a chance to respond, scowling at the ground, “Francine, she’s sturdy,” I chance a glance at his face, “But you’re right, she’s too old to be treated poorly. I’ll make sure to be gentler with her in the future.”

Mr. Peeta arched his eyebrows, as if surprised by my mere voice. He tugged the collar of his plain white t-shirt, and then huffed a chuckle.

“Little Miss Katniss is driving now,” he said with a rueful shake of his head. He eyed me curiously, “Well, I guess you’re not little anymore. But wow! What a way to humble a man about his old age.” A deep chuckle rumbled in his chest, making me shift in place in mild arousal.

He draped his chef’s shirt over his forearm and closed his car door softly. “I have no words to describe how I feel, discovering young Katniss Everdeen is old enough to drive Francine,” He tsked at his boots, but his smile made his eyes crinkle in the corners. “End of an era… for me at least. Beginning of a new one for you, I supposed.” He smiled self deprecatingly.

My face burned and my chest tightened at his words, not sure if I felt elation or embarrassment.

“Oh… you ain’t old, sir.” I waved him off, still scowling for no good reason.

Mr. Peeta laughed. “You’re too kind, Miss Katniss, but my I.D. disagrees. Plus, knowing you’re old enough to drive is a sobering thought.” He smiled kindly again.

“I turned sixteen a week and a half ago. Daddy gave me the truck for passing my driving test.” I volunteered without prompting.

“Neat! Spring baby, then. Makes sense. Suits you.” Mr. Peeta smiled, and I got incredibly shy, excited and happy at his short words.

“Yeah, May 8th.” I offered softly, “That’s me. Spring baby.”

“As I said, it suits you. I’m a wintry kid myself, so I try to be extra warm to counteract any cold disposition I might have.” He said, checking his watch.

I panicked slightly; I knew time was closing in, and I’d be dismissed soon, so I blurted out the first thing that popped into my head. “What brings you out here so early on a Saturday morning, anyway?”

Mr. Peeta cocked his head sideways and glanced at me curiously. “Work.” He said in an amused, lilting tone. He lifted his arm to point at his chef uniform laid neatly folded.

I clamped my mouth immediately, to prevent any other ‘brilliant’ questions might escape.

Mr. Peeta smirked, probably realizing what a dork I was. “How about you? It’s awfully early for a kid to be downtown.” His face took a distant quality for his next words. “When I was your age, my mother would beat me out of bed for my Saturday shifts at the bakery… all I wanted to do was lay in bed until noon, you know. But, baker’s hours aren’t exactly flexible.”

My whole face twisted at that tidbit of information. I couldn’t read his emotion about his comment, which bothered me somehow. I started talking just because I disliked the way his face turned blank.

“I’m a morning person myself.” I shrugged. But my folks made me get a job so I could finance my gas addiction,” I was smuggly pleased when the baker started laughing heartily at my silly joke. It felt nice, knowing I said something he found funny. “Anyway, I’m working too. At Ms. Donner’s shop.”

“Nice! Good taffy. Did old Maysilee offer to pay you in candy? I swear she did that to my brother, Bannock, one summer he decided to give another shop a try. ” He said conversationally, activating the alarm of his car.

“Oh, gosh!” I laughed, “No, she offered to give me a check every two weeks.” Then I looked at him dead in the eye, “Now the Christmas bonuses, those are in candy.”

We both laughed at that

Mr. Peeta nodded. “Well, Miss Katniss, I won’t keep you much longer, but if you need anything… a cheese bun for example,” He winked, putting my heart a flutter again, “Don't hesitate to come in!”

With that, he started walking towards the narrow street behind the row of shops, no doubt heading to the back door of the bakery.

“Bye, Mister Peeta!” I croaked out belatedly.

Peeta waved over his shoulder.

All I could think after the encounter was how wrong my parents had been about my “puppy love” being a passing crush.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Josh Hurcherson starred in _Bridge to Terabithia_ , which came out to theaters in February of 2007. Josh was as excellent in this movie as he was as Hijacked!Peeta in MJ, so I recommend it very, especially if you are in need of a good cry, because the movie is S.A.D!
> 
> I changed the Title of the Fic a little bit from the one on Tumblr because as usual, hindsight is a b*tch and the original name felt weird when I spoke it out loud. 
> 
> The rest of the first chapter was copied and pasted from its original on tumblr without any alterations, so I apologize if there’s any type of formatting mishap.
> 
> Also... and please don’t be mad at me, I know I’m not supposed to be starting new sh*t when I haven’t finished the ones I swore up and down I was going to finish this year... really, I had a chart with cutesy doodles and approachable writing goals, but along came COVID and smashed all my plans into oblivion. Hopefully, now that my kids don’t require me to be their teacher anymore, I might have a little bit more free time to work on my WiPs. Either way, I really hope I can make progress now.


	2. Elmer’s Glue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbetaed. And long.
> 
> The Angst tag is coming into play right now. Don’t kill me!

After my first week working for Ms. Donner at her candy store, I developed a stalkerish routine involving “unexpected” (totally expected) encounters with Mr. Peeta every time I was working the morning shift— like clockwork.

All throughout the summer months, I timed my arrivals at the parking lot and took a spot either next or across from Peeta’s preferred parking space, and acted all delightedly surprise at “catching” him as he was getting out of his car.

Normally, we would exchange pleasantries and greetings for a minute, and then he would invariably excuse himself to go to the bakery while I stayed behind, watching him walk away— because that man’s behind is still a work of art to this day!— Then, mid morning I would take my fifteen minute break from work, by sauntering into the bakery’s front door for breakfast, casually trying to catch a glimpse of him, but more often than not, Peeta was frosting special orders in the back; Mellark’s was legendary thanks to Peeta’s artistry.

I couldn’t say Mr. Peeta and I were buddies.

We usually spoke of inconsequential things, like the weather or our school experiences; he liked reminiscing about his high school years, and spoke fondly of my daddy, but that kind of conversations, the ones I could glean any information of sustenance from, were far and in between. Still, Mr. Peeta would smile at me and sometimes even wink, and I would momentarily turn into a sponge, soaking up every tiny bit of attention he gave me.

My eyes followed his hand gestures and catalogued every micro expression that passed his handsome face, storing them in my mind to swoon over at my leisure at home.

I couldn’t help it, I was utterly smitten with the man! What started as a little girl crush, had snowballed into an all consuming admiration that went beyond a simple infatuation… I was falling in love with Peeta Mellark, deeply, foolishly in love.

I wasn’t so delusional as to think Peeta Mellark saw me as anything more than his old friend’s kid daughter. I knew my feelings were one sided, but there was nothing wrong about dreaming… right?

But maybe…

Maybe I could somehow show him...

Maybe I could show him how much more there could be between us.

Maybe I could give him some hints?

In my mind, I convinced myself there was a chance that the object of my affections could develop feelings of his own for me if only he had an inkling as to how I felt for him. After all, Peeta had never been romantically linked to anyone in particular, he was as single as the number one, and he was an emphatic soul. Maybe he could reciprocate just out of politeness, though that didn’t sound genuine. 

Maybe he was waiting for unconditional love, not knowing that he could have that with me.

Maybe if he knew, we could have one of those torrid romances poets wrote about…

Maybe our story would be epic and grandiose!

Maybe…

Maybe...

Maybe...

Maybe I was a childish fool, who couldn’t see through her foggy rose lenses of her 16 year old googly eyes.

* * *

My romantic illusions came to a rude and startling end on a pale October morning.

The wind was a bit too strong for the beginning of fall, but the colorful leaves dancing in the breeze looked all too lovely to mind the prickly chill. It was my kind of day in all honesty, but not for long.

I clocked out early that day because Ms. Donner was making black licorice, and the smell of anise was suffocating me.

Normally, I would’ve walked to the bakery first to grab a snack before heading home, but my stomach was churning so badly from the strong smells of the candy, that the mere thought of even scrumptious Mellark’s food made me queasy.

My grandma always said that things happened for a reason, and it was best not to question it, since at some point in life we would look back on those moments we were left scratching our heads wondering why did we get pelted with lemons, and where did they come from, and realize it was the best thing that could’ve happened to us, ‘cause now we had the main ingredient for lemonade and merengue pie, even if the pelting itself was painful at first.

It was too bad grandma never said that some lemons could hit you so hard, you would be forced to double over in pain. Specially considering my teenaged sensitivities.

I turned the corner of the County Seat and marched towards the parking lot, watching the beautiful autumn foliage dancing in the crisp breeze... Then, with a jolt, I saw him.

Peeta was in his corner, by his car, wrapped around a pretty woman, essentially eating her face.

My eyes wouldn’t look away no matter how much my brain ordered them to shift and cover. No, the gray little traitors remained trained on the backside of the man I had daydreamed to marry and move to the suburbs with to raise our three children and a pup in a marzipan house, never gaining weight.   
  


I should’ve known then my dream was a heap of baloney. You can’t avoid gaining weight after birthing three children, and a house made of marzipan was as unpractical as it was creepy... didn’t the witch from Hansel and Gretel live in a house made of cookies? And look how she end up! 

Yet, I stared in morbid helplessness, trying to figure out which limbs belonged to whom in the octopus-like embrace before me.

The woman’s hip was against Peeta’s car door, while his whole body bowed over her’s on her other flank. Arms and legs roamed obscenely over body parts I was too pure to even think about. Then they turned a little, giving me a glimpse of Peeta’s lips seemingly fused to the woman’s, and I momentarily wondered if he was trying to suck her soul through her mouth, scooping it out with his tongue?

I felt the wind knock out of my lungs when Peeta suddenly grabbed the woman’s thigh in his big hand and shuffled her around, until her back was flat on the car’s body, and he pressed into her center, and ground.

I panicked for a second, I couldn’t get air into my lungs, and felt like I was drowning on my own spit. I couldn’t breathe, the little saliva I had in my mouth got stuck at the back of my throat making everything worst.

I was appalled and grossed out by what I was watching. I started shaking from head to toe, worse than the autumn leaves on the trees above me. I had to leave, I had to gauge my eyes out and never think of that day again.

Before I could consciously make the choice, my legs moved woodenly towards Francine, practically in front of Peeta and his... lady friend.

Gravel clung to my Uggs like little incriminating leeches, but I didn’t spare the lovers a glance. I yanked Francine’s door open, climbed inside scowling— like I was _The Terminator—_ and slammed the door behind me, shaking from head to toe.

Heart in my throat and tears burning my eyes, I peeled out of the parking lot so sharply, my wheels kicked up all kinds of debris and gravel coming loose from the pavement in the lot.

I made it a block before I had to pull over and run to a trash can on a sidewalk. I spewed the bile choking me, burning my throat raw. I sobbed uncontrollably for what felt like hours, but a cursory glance at Francine’s dashboard clock told me it had been less than ten minutes since leaving the candy shop.

I managed to drive home with my vision blurry from tears, and thanked my stars, my family was out at Prim’s soccer game, allowing me to nurse my broken heart unnoticed.

When my mother came to my room later that day, concerned about my state, I easily lied, blaming my red-rimmed eyes on my violent puking after leaving work. It was only partially false, my stomach was in disarray and I did pull over to empty it on my way home, and since I puked my guts out the first time Ms. Donner made licorice after I started working for her, my folks had no reason to suspect this time around was any different, and left me alone for the rest of the day to recover.

Needless to say, that was the last Saturday I sought out Mr. Peeta in the parking lot. All my stalking activities ceased. In fact, I avoided the man like the plague from then on, going as far as braving the stench of the parking next to the dumpster behind the candy shop, just to make sure I wouldn’t run into him by accident. I also stopped frequenting the bakery, opting for bringing lunch from home; I told my parents I figured I could save more money that way, which turned out to be true in the long run.   
  


Then one morning, three weeks into my bakery boycott, to my mortifying chagrin, the blasted baker himself strolled up to my counter, lopsided, boyish smile on full display and those blue eyes sparkling with mirth.

”Good morning, Miss Katniss!” He drawled happily.   
  


I gave him a curt nod, but my tongue was stuck to the roof of my mouth, preventing any verbal response to come forth.   
  


He didn’t seem to mind, “I haven’t seen you for a while.” Again, I could only nod, and again, he seemed oblivious to my discomfort. “So... Halloween is near, then October is gone. Crazy how fast time goes, right?” He chuckled, rubbing a hand on his nape. “Hm, here! I brought hot chocolate and a cheese-bun, on the house, to my favorite Candy shop girl,” he lifted a hand to show me how he actually did brought treats, clutching both the cup and baggie easily in his gigantic hand.   
  


“I’m trying to cut back on carbs.”   
  
I had never in my life gone on a diet, let alone cut back on carbs. Heck, my whole food pyramid had hot chocolate and cheese buns in some way, shape or form in it, so what I said to him, was a huge, blatant lie!

It was worth it though. For a second, his forehead knitted in a frown and his infuriating smile faltered, but he recuperated quickly. “Well... in that case, you can give it to Maysilee, and next time I’ll bring you something else.” He seemed to inhale his breath too loudly.   
  
I took the cup and paper baggie from him and set it by the register delicately. I was acting like a child, yes, but I wasn’t about to waste food, regardless where it came from. 

“How can I help you, Mr. Mellark?” I asked curtly. 

I was aware of how rude I sounded. It wasn’t _his_ fault my heart was broken. _I knew that_.

I was painfully aware Mr. Peeta had no idea that I loved him and that my heart was utterly broken because I saw him kissing another woman. But he had never shown any romantic interest in me to begin with. I knew I was reacting badly to the whole awful mess; that my silly daydreaming of unobtainable things finally caught up with reality... but, dang it! It hurt, and I was 16!

I wanted to hate him with the same amount of passion I used to pined for him.

“Please, call me Peeta. _Mr. Mellark_ makes me feel like I’m a hundred years old.”

I didn’t answer or smiled back at him, just scowled intently at the counter top, until he exhaled his breath... too loudly.

”I placed an order for the bakery. Since it’s Halloween and all...” He sounded tired.   
  


I looked up his order, and placed a box full of assorted candy on the counter for him. It was already paid off, so there really was nothing else we needed to do.   
  


“Thank you for your business, sir. Hope the order is to your satisfaction.”   
  


Peeta took the box but just stood there, staring at me.   
  


it occurred to me that his hands were full, and he may needed help with the door; so I ducked under the plank, instead of lifting it up, and trotted to get the door for him.   
  


He hesitated for a second, his fingers fanned and drummed on the card box he held. 

I looked up at him, part annoyed and part curious. “Is there anything else I can help you with?” I asked as courteously as I could manage.

Mr. Peeta had no idea I felt like a physical fissure ran down my heart, and the cracks deepened with every glimpse of him I got. He didn’t know the terrible ache I felt seeing him.

His jaw worked, as if he was chewing inside his lip. Then he shook his head, dislodging his neatly combed curls. “That’ll be all. Thank you.” He mumbled under his breath.   
  


I just nodded in acknowledgment, and kept the door wide open for him.

Once he’d past me, he stopped under the threshold and turned to face me. “Katniss,” he said quietly, pulling making my whole body shiver, “Don't be a stranger? I— we miss you at the bakery.”   
  


I scowled at the floor, so hard, I was surprised the ground didn’t break into a gaping hole to swallow me whole. 

So, he'd noticed my absence? Did he want to be friends with me? Those questions didn’t stop me from feeling rejected and inadequate and blame _him_ for it. I just wanted to hate the guy! But I couldn’t quite manage it, so I withdrew and wilted.

”See you around Mr. Mellark.” I said once he was cleared of the door, and shut it quickly behind him, in case he tried to say something else. 

When I came home later that day, my mood was as foul as a rotted egg. 

My folks noticed the changes. Of course they did; but when they asked if something was the matter with their concerned eyes and beating hearts, I just waved them away.

I couldn’t begin to articulate to myself— let alone them— what and how I felt. I wasn’t about to confess that my horrendous mood was a product of my own silliness.

My parents,— decent people they’ve always been— gave me space; trusting I’d come to them when I was ready to talk, but that never happened.

Meanwhile, Mr. Peeta carried on with his life, unawares of my suffering. I avoided the bakery but he came into the candy shop to get more treats all the way up to Halloween and was his usual polite self with me every time we interacted; he smiled and winked at me same way he always did, like nothing was wrong. Maybe that was the reason I came to the conclusion, that Mr. Peeta never noticed anything was different in my demeanor towards him, even though I was curt, dry and a tad rude at times.

the notion that Peeta Mellark could be so oblivious to my bruise feelings just hurt unbearably worse than watching him suck face with some woman I didn’t even know by name.

I was jealous, bitter and resentful. All I could do was pray the heartache would fade soon, because feeling rotten all the time sucked, and having a fractured heart when you needed a whole one, was the absolute worst.

* * *

“Trick or treat!” Vick and Posy Hawthorne chanted together when my mama’s head poked out from our house’s front door.

“Oh my! What do we have here?” She gushed, fully stepping into the porch to look at the kiddos fondly. “Is that Venom and Frozen I see?”

I rolled my eyes at her. She was such a _mom_!

“I’m Elsa!” Posy informed her, sweeter than I would’ve had in her place.

“I’m Miles Morales’ Spider-Man.” Vick said, taking off his mask to arch his dark eyebrows, clearly unimpressed with my mama’s appraisal, although _I_ was surprised she even knew anything about Venom, I didn’t know my mother was familiar with comics.

“Oh… Miles Morales, is that like a new Marvel writer? I haven’t heard of him—“

“Clearly!” I cut her off impatiently, still weirdly impressed with her limited knowledge of comics. “Can you hurry up and give them their candy so we come inside? It’s freezing out here.”

Gale snorted besides me, which was equivalent to a full on laugh in Gale talk.

The Hawthorne’s lived at the end of our road, but our parents had been close friends before we moved into the neighborhood. No surprise there with our town being as tiny as it was. Either way, our families had trick-or-treated together ever since I could remember; even when only Vick and Posy were age appropriate for it anymore, Prim and I tagged along with the Hawthorne kids on Halloween.

Gale and I served as chaperones for the younger kids, and Prim and I still dressed up—we just stopped asking for candy way before then, though.

Gale hated dressing up even as a child, so he stopped wearing costumes as soon as he turned thirteen.

“Very well,” Mama sighed glaring at me, like a was the biggest buzz kill in the world. “Here you go kids!” She dumped half her bowl of candy in Posy’s Olaf basket, and the remainder half into Vick’s pillowcase.

“Finally!” I huffed and pushed past everyone, going into the house.

As soon as Hazelle— Gale’s mama— saw me enter, she stood up and came to the door.

“Good! You’re all back!” She said hugging each of her own children.

“Where’s Prim?” Called Mama from the door.

“She and Rory where trying to cajole Mrs. Seeder into letting Rue come to supper with them. They’ll be back in a minute.” Gale provided, coming in after Vick and Posy.

I was cold, my feet hurt from walking around for the last couple of hours, and I was hungry, so I parked my grumpy butt at the kitchen table and slapped myself a meal of Sloppy Joes and fries.

Gale joined me shortly after helping his siblings out of their coats; he sat next to me with his own plate full of food.

We only had a few minutes of relative silence before the kitchen turned into a madhouse, with kids and adults trying to get food and drinks all the same time. Mama grabbed a flowerpot from the fridge with dirt cake in it, and fretted over Daddy eating all the gummy worms off the top of the dessert.

All in all, it was a typical Halloween for us, really, for which I was deeply grateful. It was a nice change from all the sadness I had been wallowing on of late. 

“Ready to go, Catnip?” Gale asked after I threw out my paper plate and napkin.

The year Gale got his driving license, we started a new tradition of going to the movie theatre after Trick-or-Treat dinner. All the kids would tag along of course, and Gale and I would pretend we were annoyed about, while secretly enjoying lording over everyone. 

“Um… Prim and Rue are still eating.” I said offhandedly, while serving myself some more sweet tea.

Gale frowned. “They aren’t coming.” He stated curtly.

I scowled. “What do you mean?” It was a new tradition, but it _was tradition_!

“Well… I thought it would be just the two of us tonight.” Before I could ask him why on Earth he would think such a thing, he added in a forceful tone, “On a date.”

I chuckled and turned to look at him fully in the face, “A date, right!”

But Gale was not smiling.

“Oh! You guys are finally going on a date-date?” Cooed my mama from her spot at the kitchen counter, clearly spying on the mostly quiet conversation Gale and I were having.

“I—“

“Awww! It’s about time, you two!” Cried out Hazelle, coming up to squeeze Gale’s shoulder affectionately. “Lily, we need pictures!”

“Yes! Hunter, hun, can you bring the camera? Katniss and Gale are going on a date finally.”

To my horror, our mothers were over the moon with just the idea of Gale and I going out on a date.

I felt blindsided. Like the choice had been made for me before my brain even had the chance to processed the fact that my best friend— from childhood— just asked me out on a date, and my mother had been eavesdropping on it the whole time.

Whatever answer I was going to give Gale, remained frozen in my parted lips.

Our mothers squealed like over excited cheerleaders, and dragged me like a rag doll to stand next to Gale by the fireplace so they could snap pictures of us with their cellphones, as if we were headed to Senior Prom instead of the movies on a Halloween evening.

I vaguely heard Gale’s protests next to me. If I had been in more lucid state of mind, I would’ve mock him about it, because he hated pictures and despised being fussed over by his mother in public.

Finally, Gale has enough and took my elbow, maneuvering me across the living room.

I scowled, finally finding my voice. “Wait, I haven’t—“

“Wear your gloves, Katniss.” Said my mother, slapping gloves on my hands.

“Now Gale, remember, just because you’re eighteen doesn’t mean curfew stopped applying to you as well, do you hear?”

“Yes, Ma! Quit hovering. It’s just a movie.”

“Wait,” I tried again, but nobody was listening to me.

“Here, don’t forget your house keys, Katniss. We will probably be waiting up for you, but just in case,” I felt the cold metal of the keys being thrusted in my hands next my gloves. 

“I…”

“Okay, have fun!”

“But—“

“Oh Hazelle! Look at them!”

“They’re so sweet together!”

“Wait... I’m not sure about this…”

“Gale, you better behave like a gentleman!”

Everyone talked over each other, and I felt like I had been screaming for help from the bottom of a well until my father stepped in.

“Hey, Catkin… you can just go get a Red Box and come watch it here,”

I smiled at Daddy tentatively from behind Mama; but she whipped around and slapped him on the chest softly before I could latch on, on his suggestion.

“Hunter! Leave the kids alone! Stop being so overprotective.” Mama chided. “Don’t you see they’re overwhelmed?”

Daddy gave me an apologetic look over Mama’s head, then raised his hands in surrender and stepped back into the kitchen. And like that, something inside of me shut down.

I let Gale guide me to his Jeep like a mindless puppet without a will.

The rest of the evening went off just a tad stranger than usual.

It wasn't very different from our normal outings together, except Gale kept taking hold of my hand or wrapping his arm around my shoulders, and suddenly he started smiling... a lot!

Gale didn’t usually smile that much.

I was still trying to come to terms with being on a date with him, but the longer I sat in that theatre with the weight of my best friend’s arm around my shoulders, and the image of my mother’s pleased expression, the more justifiable a concept this arrangement became.

Maybe dating Gale was a logical choice, given how close our families were; maybe I had just been obtuse for not seeing the obvious path before me… Gale did ask me to his Senior Prom earlier on the year— all shy and hesitant like— but I thought he was joking at the time.

Maybe my stupid infatuation with Mr. Peeta had been more detrimental to myself than I originally thought, because I had been blind to my best friend’s obvious affection for me; that thought alone ratcheted up the guilt factor to bursting, and suddenly, I was chastising myself for being so stupid and selfish. I shouldn’t had ignore my best friend’s advances... he had been in front of me the whole time, waiting for me with a bleeding heart.

Never mind the fact that when Gale asked me out to Prom, he ended up going with a chick named Lavinia, because I rolled my eyes and told him to stop messing around, and hurry to secure a real date before all the good ones got taken.

Gale and Lavinia dated— boned like bunnies, rather— all through graduation, and only stopped talking when she left for college late in August. But after the events of the night, in my mind, it had been me who pushed poor Gale into the pretty red-head’s open legs, without regard for his own feelings for me. _So selfish of me!_

I was equally as terrible as Mr. Peeta in obliviousness.

By the time Gale dropped me off at home after the film, I had effectively convinced myself I was doing the right thing for once.

I was finally seeing clearly, and not through rose tinted spectacles.

I swore to myself I would reciprocate each and everyone of Gale’s gestures: If he smiled, I beamed up at him; if he held my hand, I’d squeeze it lightly in mine; if he wrapped his arm around me, I’d leaned into his side… honestly, I went along with everything just to make him happy, because I thought I owed him as much. 

Our mothers’ happiness was riding on my performance too.

When Gale leaned into me on my porch steps, I let him kiss me goodnight, and never thought anything about the lack of excitement at getting my very first kiss, chalking it up to nerves.

I reasoned I’d be dating Gale for the foreseeable future— he was as good as my first boyfriend without even having to officially ask— so kissing him was the most rational, expected, logical and even natural thing in the world at that point...

I had made my choice!

The most logical choice!

I was Gale’s. And Gale was mine. Anything else was unthinkable.

Maybe we were even destined to get hitched after I graduated High School…

I shivered at the unsettling thought, and he leaned back from the kiss, smiling lazily at me.

“That good, huh?” He drawled, self satisfied.

My face must’ve registered the confusion I felt at his words, because he added, “I knew I was a good kisser, but you’re trembling in my arms.”

“Mhmm… it’s… I’m cold.” I mumbled, casting my eyes downward. “I should get inside.”

“Okay. Goodnight, Catnip.”

I only nodded and hurried away on shaky legs.

Gale and I used to be able to read each other’s moods like an open book. We had so many things in common. Our mothers clearly approved… then why the thought of being romantically linked to my best friend sounded like a life sentence?

As promised, Mama was sipping a cup of tea in her chair, reading a book when I came in. “Hi, dear! How the date go? Tell me all!”   
  


I had to force my annoyance all the way down, while forcing a smile onto my face.   
  


“It was fine. Not too different than hanging out normally.”

Mama beamed at me. “That’s so nice. I’m so happy your first date was with a boy we all like and trust.” She went back to her magazine sighing. “We’re lucky to have such a level headed daughter too. I heard from Clarissa Cartwright how much they’ve struggle with Delilah and her choice in boys... all su much older than her. But I’ve always said it, my Katniss only had a quick crush with an older boy, and she got over it without a fuss! Such a good girl you’ve been, Katniss. We’re very proud of you!”  
  


I nodded, and excused myself to bed, sick with guilt.

Even during my date, I contemplated the possibility of salvaging my friendship with Mr. Peeta. 

But I was dating Gale now! And there was no room for Peeta Mellark anymore... my mother was right, I would get over that crush at any cost! 

Nothing Peeta Mellark did would affect me, no sire! Not anymore! 

* * *

  
The invitation arrived the Monday after Thanksgiving, all delicate ribbons and satiny ivory paper stock. The envelope had flowers printed on relief on the outside and a tasteful silver lining on the inside. The cursive lettering was elegant and pretty.

I hated it on the spot!

Then, to add insult to injury, Daddy put it on display in our refrigerator, under my favorite magnet, the one shaped like a flip-flop with colorful sand on the inside, boasting the words _Myrtle Beach, NC_ on top.

I hated that I had to see the blasted thing every time I got thirsty or hungry.

I hated that my sister and mother were excited, making plans to go to mall, dresses shopping for the occasion.

I hated that I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the loopy calligraphy, counting down to the minute I would lose for good, my chance to make an impression, and change his mind. Not that’ll actually do something about it. I was just me, and he was still eighteen years my senior. 

I stood staring with an empty cup in my hand and a numb sensation in my chest.

“Remember when you were little and had that embarrassing crush on Peeta?” My mother’s voice sounded so grating in my ears I had to bite my lips not to growl at her. “You used to blush so deeply every time we saw him. Your round little cheeks reminded me of a pair of cherries, so red and flustered. It was adorable, and Peeta was such a sport about it. He’d blush too, but he’d be so nice to you, giving you treats and cookies, with a mischievous wink… It was so cute.”

I tore my prickling eyes away from the invitation, and served myself some water from the sink.

“I can’t wait for his wedding. Honestly, I thought Peeta would remain a bachelor forever,” she chuckled, then trailed off. “He’s so handsome, and sweet. I’m glad he finally found someone. I’m so excited for him!”

Mama looked genuinely pleased, so I nodded mechanically.

“Yeah. It’s… great.” I said flatly.

“We should get you a dress too,” Mama chirped, walking away. “Something less girly, and more your age. Your dad won’t mind as long as it’s tasteful—“

I blocked whatever else mama had to say, placed the cup on the counter without drinking from it, and forced my legs to move slowly in the direction of my room, before I did something stupid, like cry.

* * *

I convinced Gale going kayaking the weekend before New Years— apparently the future Mrs. Mellark had no regard for other people’s lives— was a great idea.

It wasn’t!

The day was dull, overcast, and frigid. It was too windy on the surface of the lake to have any type of conversation, and the water was too cold for fishing. 

It was miserable.

“Can we go?” Gale snapped, huddling grouchily into his winter coat. “I’m freezing my balls here!” His mood was so sour it could melt solid steel with a few words. 

I glared at him, adjusting my own coat snuggly around myself. “I ain't ready to go home yet.” I told him petulantly. “But I can row you back to shore, so you can preserve your family jewels at room temperature,” I offered in fake sweetness. 

“You can be a pain in the ass sometimes, Catnip.” 

“I try.” I responded in my most acidic tone. 

Somehow, I managed to keep us in that lake, braving the elements, until the screen of my phone told me there was absolutely no way in heck I could make it home in time to attend Mr. Peeta’s wedding with my family. 

If I hadn’t been so preoccupied trying to keep myself from freezing to death in that blasted kayak, I would’ve found peculiar the fact that Daddy never called to remind me of the big event happening that afternoon. It just never crossed my mind. 

Gale bitched again, “Think how stupid we’re gonna feel, when the search and rescue team finds us both dead by hypothermia, with our hands frozen just shy of the paddles, and the safety of our heated cars less than 200 yards from the shore, where we could’ve run to at any moment,”

I rolled my eyes at my boyfriend’s dramatics, but he was inspired.

“They’re gonna wonder why two kids who knew this lake like the back of their hands, were sitting in a plastic little canoe, 200 yards from their warm cars, and did nothing to save themselves. 200 yards Catnip! That’s two football fields back to back, from where they’re gonna find us, blue and dead in the middle of this lake.”

I sighed deeply, squeezing the bridge of my nose between my thumb and forefinger. I was about to tell him I was ready to go, but he beat me to the punch. And what a punch he gave!

“You know what the worst thing is, Catnip? Our search party will probably mock me the whole time, because we were obviously not fooling around. Which would be a much better excuse, as to why we were found as a pair of dead ice cubes out here in the boondocks, than because my girlfriend wanted to be stubborn and not recognize that her idea of fishing in the middle of winter was stupid! 

“I can see it now, Catnip... The coroner will ask: “where they boning in the kayak?” And the first responder will laugh: “No. the idiots were fully clothed and sitting three feet from one another, otherwise we would’ve found him with his pants around his ankles, fuc—“

“Enough!” I turned to face him so fast, so outraged, I almost send the kayak into a roll over the icy water. “Language!” I screeched indignantly. “Geez!”

It was the first time Gale ever mentioned his interest in making our relationship physical, and it just startled me.

I’m not sure why the sarcastic, frustrated outburst took me by surprise so much, it wasn’t like I ignored his escapades— Gale wasn’t exactly shy about sharing his experiences from his visits to the Slag Heap, where most kids went to hook up in our little town— but, naively, I never pictured myself as an active participant in any sexual situation… and I say _naively_ , because is the polite word to use in this case. 

I had imagined myself swollen with Mr. Peeta’s babies for as long as I could remember, even after a stint in Sex Ed classes, _and_ an infamous sit-down with my folks where they gave me ‘the talk’... my sheltered brain didn’t make the connection between babies and sex, and suddenly my mind was conjuring up clinical images of me and Peeta Mellark doing the act, just to remind myself he was practically a married man... and that’s when the worst thought of all sank into my brain: _Peeta Mellark was practically a married man_.

Not only that, but he was a married man, doing married man things to his wife... on their honeymoon. In bed. Sexually. Because he was married to her. And she was an adult. 

I was gonna be sick!

Without a word, I passed Gale a paddle and took the other myself to row us back to shore. 

_Peeta was probably having sex with her before she was even his fiancée.  
_

“They need to build a pier or something in here,” Said Gale, breaking the silence by jumping out of the kayak, splashing freezing water everywhere with his waterproof boots. 

_They we’re practically doing it on top of his car that day I saw him eating her face in the parking lot... gross! They were out in the open!_

I nodded distractedly, trying to ignore Gale’s seeking stares. He offered me his hand to help me out of the kayak, but I just handed him our unused fishing poles and the tackle box and jumped out on my own. We pulled the kayak of the water together in silence, and without sparing him a glance I took the front end to heaved it on the bed of my truck. 

_They should’ve gotten a room and spare me the ickiness!_

Gale and I worked in tandem packing up our equipment and I managed to keep silent and avoid his eyes the whole time. But the quiet only lasted so long.

“Are you mad at me?” Gale finally asked in his brusque tone, “Did I over do it? Because, I was just joking around, you know.” 

Gale wasn’t too much of a conversationalist, always so serious and broody. 

I gave him a quick glance and shook my head. “I just wanted to come out here and pass the time doing something more… us.” I fished my car fob out of my jeans and sighed. “I’m sorry it was too cold. I shouldn’t had insisted on coming here, but the alternative was something you would’ve hated more, like going to the mall.” 

Gale gave me a small, rueful chuckle. “Yeah… I would’ve taken freezing my ass here over going into one of those flowery smelling shops you and Prim like.” 

_What an a-hole! Anyone could’ve seen him screwing that woman in that lot! Anyone!!_

I made a small noise at the back of my throat in agreement, and without losing a beat, climbed inside my truck. 

“We should go to the shooting range, sometime. Less danger of freezing to death, you know.” Said Gale closing the door of the cabin for me, then leaning over the open window to peck my lips with his. “See you in a bit?” I was about to say yes but then he frowned, “Oh, aren’t y’all going to that wedding later on today?” 

_UGH!_

“Yeah… those are the plans at home.” I shrugged.

_Absolute a-whole! They deserved each other, one for almost having sex in public, and the other for getting married the last weekend of the year, like the rest of the world revolved around them!_

“I guess I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

I nodded woodenly.

“Okay…” Gale patted my window frame twice and hesitated. “About before… I really was just joking, Catnip. I don’t expect us to fool around in the woods like that. I mean, I wouldn’t oppose to it if the circumstances are right, but we can go slow.” 

_I bet Peeta told his lady friend the same thing... and look how they were all porny like next to poor Francine._

I didn’t say anything, just stared out my windshield and again, gave him a mechanical nod. “I know.” My voice was raspy.

“Are you… okay?”

_No!_

I turned to him. “Yeah… I’m good.”  
  


“Okay,”

We stared at each other for another moment.

“And us? Are we good too?”   
  


_Are you gonna try to fondle me in a parking for all to see?_

“Yeah. We’re good. Why wouldn’t we?”

“You look... absent?”

I couldn’t exactly explain what was going on inside of me, other than all of my emotions twisted unpleasantly in my gut, and I felt like a flashlight that was left on too long and the batteries were slowly draining. My light was gradually diminishing. Waning, and all I wanted to do was go home to change my batteries. 

”Just tired.”

”Okay,” He repeated, then patted the roof of my truck and stood back. “Drive safe, Catnip.”

”You too.”

My truck rumbled to life. 

Sure, what Gale said about the messing around— or lack thereof, really— between us, weighted heavily on my mind, but only partly. Originally I wanted to stay out there in that frozen lake risking becoming a Katnisscicle, so I didn’t have to face the harsh reality of what that day meant for my doomed feelings for Peeta. At the end, it didn’t help.   
  


The truth found me all the same, and slapped me hard in the face. It was freaking unfair. I hated it. I dreaded the feeling more than anything, and I couldn’t escape it anyway. 

Before I knew it, I was driving along my lane, approaching my house. 

I went through the motions of unpacking Francine in silence, robotically, alone. Daddy would’ve come out to help, but my mother’s car was gone from her spot in the garage, so I surmised they were already gone to the wedding. 

My assumption was confirmed by a note on Prim’s cutesy handwriting: 

> _Went to the wedding of the year! We couldn’t sit and wait for you any longer, sorry. We will bring cake back if we can… I bet you’ll be kicking yourself for missing that treat when you realized Mama didn’t leave any dessert. <3 U! C U soon! _

Uncontrollable sobbing took over my body. I clutched the stupid little note in my fist and sunk to my knees when the weight of my grief brought me down. But I only allowed myself the pity for a few minutes.

I tore myself from the floor a moment later, with the pigeonhole mission to find a half full bottle of Elmer’s Glue my mother kept around. 

It was nearly manic, the way I opened drawers and ripped through rooms and closets looking for the small bottle I’ve seen laying around not two days earlier. Mama always kept it accessible in case the need for it arrived. 

A panicky need to read the list of things the paste would worked on drove me to the edge of madness as my anxiety peaked. 

I’d accidentally hit Francine’s rear view mirror with a paddle earlier. I kept wondering if Elmer’s glue would be strong enough to fix it back onto the glass. There was nothing wrong with the mirror. I didn’t knock it off or anything… but I _needed_ to know how to fix it, in the eventuality it fell off. Because the mirror would undoubtedly fall off at some point. That was just a fact of life. 

Nothing lasted. _Ever!_

Things broke all the time: mirrors, dreams… hearts... it was best to be prepared and _know_ , that even if cracked hearts couldn’t be repaired with band aids and bakery cookies like scraped knees on little girls, maybe fallen mirrors could be reattached with a little glue from a bottle.

And _I just needed to know_! 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... I adjusted Peeta’s age by 13-15 months, because despite my meticulous age math, I made a humongous mistake in calculations and Peeta was way older than Katniss’ narration suggested. Also... Katniss parents may have married way younger than I originally projected, so don’t be too scandalized if they ended up getting married with Katniss already in the way... we will see. 
> 
> Also, I forgot to include this little note in the last chapter: I’m not sure about other countries driving ages, but in the USA, you get your driving permit at 15, and your license at 16 and a day.
> 
> Another miscalculation in the time frame: I referenced Miles Morales as inspiration for Vick’s Halloween costume... yet _Spider-Man: Into the Spider-verse_ didn’t come out to theaters until December 2018, a full year after the events in the of this Fic… I’m gonna go with Vick is just really into comics and was into Miles Morales before it became mainstream:)
> 
> Dirt Cake: is a dessert made out of smashed Oreo cookies, chocolate and vanilla pudding, cream cheese and other gooey goodness... it’s delicious and messy. Is often served in terracota flowerpots and garnished with gummy worms or fake flowers, and for whatever reason it’s a Halloween staple where I live.
> 
> On a personal note: I just got my copy of Ballad, y’all!!!! I’m so excited!!! If only I could drop everything to go read, but alas... I am a mother of two and my husband is still working from home. 
> 
> Hope you all like the chapter, and if you have your book already... don’t spoil it to me!!! lol 
> 
> I’m alliswell21@tumblr.com. Come say hi!


	3. Bushel of Roses

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, this story has not been beta-read. Mistakes will abound, but if there’s anything glaringly obvious, let me know. 
> 
> Long Chapter, because apparently I’m incapable of keeping things simple and short... the next chapter will be a continuation of this one, but will also have a time jump, so we’re not completely stagnant. 
> 
> Please, enjoy, and leave me a comment at the end!

Whoever said: “ _April showers bring May flowers”_ as an uplifting, whimsical proverb, never set foot in Panem, North Carolina in Spring. 

_What. A bunch. Of bull!_

Pardon my language, but unless _April_ was code for “ _pollen-induced-sinusitis-season”_ , and _showers_ was an euphemism for “ _dear-Lord-it’s-storming-cats-and-dogs-again-please-make-it-stop-my-whole-town-is-under-water!”_ , then the creator of such a phrase was a humongous liar!

It doesn’t stop raining just because it’s not April anymore! It’s not like the heavens turn off the spigot watering earth as soon as the calendar hits May.

Heck! _flowers_ was probably supposed to mean “ _thunder and lightning”_. 

And don’t get me started on _May_... or should I call it: “ _look-out!-mosquito-season-is-upon-us!-ay_ ”?

Of course, _f_ _lowers_ could _just_ mean _flowers_. But don’t be fooled by them blossoms; some flowers may look nice and delicate, but hide vicious thorns under those aromatic petals, waiting to prick your fingers when least expected.

Don't mind me, though, I generally loved flowers... except for roses, that is— _Roses could go choke themselves!_ — I was just having a lousy day; perhaps the worst I’d ever had in all my seventeen years of life, and I was being a sourpuss who couldn’t find joy even on the most innocent bloom.

It was May 8th, and I was cutting it close for work. _Did I mention May 8th’s my birthday???_

 _That_ on itself was a lame situation, really. I had school earlier on the day too, followed by a three hour shift at the candy store. 

Being an adult with responsibilities _sucked_! and not just because I had to attend school and work on my birthday, but because I had to do it while it stormed and thundered all freaking day long.

It was miserable and wet, not to mention chilly, foggy, and muddy. It wouldn’t have surprised me if it started hailing out of the blue... not one bit! 

The weather put a literal damper on what should’ve been a special occasion; after all, one doesn’t turn seventeen every year.

Not that I expected any different, but all the parking spaces in the alley behind the shops—where I usually parked— were taken by customers who normally parked at the public lot. It was what it was. Inconvenience all around on a soggy day. 

I had to circle the one-way traffic streets around the square, before I could turn into the road to the public parking lot. I never hated going to work, more than I did that day; the prospect of braving the elements for block and a half just to reach the candy shop considerably soured my already declining mood.

A flash of lighting in the distance made me grunt, dissatisfied.

_What kind of psycho would go out in that weather to buy gourmet bonbons?_

I was tempted to call in sick, but Ms. Donner wasn’t an idiot, she knew it was my birthday, I had already tried to ask for the afternoon off and she said I could take all day Saturday instead. I wasn’t about to do my boss wrong anyway, plus, I’d already taken a parking space in the lot. 

To make matters worse, I gave my umbrella to Prim since her’s broke, and borrowed a flimsy _Hello Kitty_ poncho from Madge with little ears and a bow on the hood; I swore I looked silly in it, but Madge squealed like a seagull, declaring me “ _adorable_ ” in it, as if I was a toddler heading out to play in the rain, instead of her best girlfriend marching on to work. 

After shutting Francine off, and shoving the keys on my jeans’ pocket, I tried poking my head into the poncho, belatedly realizing the strap of my messenger bag was tangled up with the plastic hood. I groaned and struggled to fix it up without tearing it apart— Madge’s Daddy had gotten the blasted thing for her on a trip he took to Japan— I would have no way to replace a thing my friend had so much sentimental value for. 

Anyway, I’d been too distracted getting the poncho loose from my bag to realize someone parked next to me, until yelling started filtering out the neighboring car.

It was faint, only angry sounds with no intelligible meaning, until a door blasted open and I was drawn into a private conflict I should’ve never witnessed.

“It isn’t about doubting your abilities! I never said you couldn’t do it. Quite the opposite in fact, I think you’re a very talented writer, so stop putting words in my mouth just so you can pick a fight with me!”

I gasped _..._

_Oh, no! Not him!_

I flopped sideways into Francine’s bench as soon as I recognized Mr. Peeta’s deep voice. I’ve never heard him speak so loud, so upset. It was weird! He was always so nice and sweet.

Another door opened and quickly slammed shut; this time bringing a high pitched female voice, yelling back.

“Oh, puh-lease! I don’t have to put words in your mouth, Peeta! Your tone is enough to convey all the faith you have in me!“

Half my body was twisted into the poncho and my heart was beating erratically in my chest, but I just pressed down into the mostly faded velvet of my truck’s seat, trying to shrink and turn invisible out of some messed up sense of shame or survival or something in between.

”What tone?! I was the one who suggested you submitted your work to the Panem Gazette,”

“The Panem Gazette? Don’t make me laugh!” She screeched and gave a mock cackle, ”I’m a goddamned professional! Not some uneducated, amateur, bumpkin who’s only aspiration in life is to submit to your beck and call and spit babies out of her vagina, while wasting away in this backwater town of yours!”

My mouth rounded into a wide, outraged “O”. _The nerve of that woman!_ My head tilted towards the passenger window of my truck as if I could see the hag spewing such hateful words about my town. 

“Excuse me? Did you really just insulted my hometown and accused me of trying to subjugate you with a family life? I would never impose children on you to begin with, but to refer to the woman of Panem as _uneducated bumpkins only good for breeding_ , is crossing the line, Cashmere!” 

I snorted. _What a ridiculous name!_ She sounded of entitlement and prejudice. 

I debated wether to text Ms. Donner to let her know I was in the parking lot already, just temporarily detained by _circumstances out of my reach,_ or simply jumping out of the truck and running all the way to the shop.

In the end, I stayed put out of mortification.

It made no sense, but the thought of Peeta Mellark knowing I heard every last awful thing they said to each other, filled me with stress and agitation.  
  
“What am I supposed to think? I put all of my dreams and aspirations on hold for you! Because _you_ wanted to be married, settle down, have this illusion… this _idyllic_ life, which is nothing but an insipid carbon copy of your brothers’ lives with their Stepford wives—“

“Cashmere!” 

I gave a startled squeak at the angry outburst and cowed deeper into the seat of my truck; never mind the shout was directed at somebody else, and I was safely hidden inside Francine’s suffocating cabin. 

Sweat beads already started breaking out on my forehead. 

“You leave Delly and Clove out of this! They’ve done nothing but be nice to you ever since you moved here. Plus, both of them have successful careers they enjoy. Calling them _Stepford wives_ is a cruel unkindness.”

 _That was right!_ Ms. Delly was the nicest, most smiley person I’ve ever met. Clove Mellark on the other hand, was a bit standoffish and uptight, but she’d never outright insulted anyone that I was aware of.

_That Cashmere character was out of line!_

Just in case, I reached for my cellphone, and google up _Stepford Wives_. 

“Of course you’d say that. Heaven forbid anyone criticized perfect little miss Delly! It’s disgusting, Peeta, how you salivate after the woman... your sister-in-law no less!”

_Gasp!_

My cellphone fell out of my hand and smacked me in the face, but I didn’t feel it at all; I was too focused on the sharp, stab-like pain searing through my chest.

Suddenly, Ms. Delly didn’t seem like such a nice lady anymore. 

“Cashmere, don’t you _dare_!”

“Or what?!”

“Just don’t!” 

“You’re just like every other man! You only care to see what’s convenient for you. Why I ever thought you’d be different is beyond me.”

“Darlin’,” Peeta’s voice was low and dangerous, and the rain must have receded some, because I could hear every word he said as if I was standing next to him. “You better think long and hard about your next words, we may say things we’ll regret later, and then where will we be?”

”Words don’t hurt me!” She spat, “Not anymore.” She added quietly after a second.

There was a long suffering sigh. “Oh, Cash... I know I haven’t been a model husband, but I’ve tried my darnedest to provide for you, protect you, and love you the way you deserve. I’ve tried my darnedest to treat you right.”

It sounded like the fight was winding down...

I _prayed_ for the fight to wound down.

I wanted to get out of the truck, breathe some fresh air. I was drenched in sweat from the stupid poncho and my heart rate was entirely too fast. 

”I never promised an idyllic life, Cash, nobody can promise that... but I’ve tried to please you in every way I can. You wanted a quiet life to find yourself, remember asking for that? I do! You also wanted a small house in the _boonies—_ as you called it _—_ to work on your writing and look for a good publisher you could work with. I’ve given you those. And every time something comes up, I’ve tried, to the best of my abilities, to support—“

“Bullshit!”

_Oh boy!_

“Bullshit, bullshit, bullshit!” Cashmere bellowed, making me jump in surprise. “All you say is bullshit!”

_The fight was winding down, you selfish cow!!!  
_

Of course she couldn’t leave well enough alone and had to stir up the hornets nest! I mean, the woman got married _the last weekend of the year,_ presumably inconveniencing everybody else’s New Year plans... _Who does that?!_ I could tell who: _a self-center bridezilla who didn’t stop to consider other people’s lives, which Cashmere undoubtedly was!_ (Those were all conjectures in my mind, naturally, but I’d only listened to the hag for like 15 minutes, and all she did was bitch and whine the entire time.)

“Cash,” Mr. Peeta’s casted a low warning.

“Go to hell, Peeta! You say you support me, but you refused to hear about California!”

“I heard your pitch and I explained why its not feasible right now, you’re the one not listening to reason,“

“Oh, I listened alright! Heard you loud and clear. My interests are not as important as yours. As long as you stay in this Podunk town, everything’s peachy!”

“Again with the putting of words in my mouth!” He growled in frustration. “All I said, was that my entire life’s savings are tied to the bakery. If I leave, and the bakery goes under, because there’s no head baker and administrator, we’re done! If we move to California we’ll be bankrupt!”

“I didn’t ask you to go with me!”

The fight came to a screeching halt.

My mouth dropped in outrage… _The bitch!_

Mr. Peeta had been screaming, but Cashmere’s hateful outburst was worse.

A sepulchral silence followed, and the longer it stretched, the more anxious I became in my little sauna.

I was irate.

It took me a long time to figure that one out, but, later in life I understood that anger, even when not directed at you, is like a poison. It will infect you, taint you, if you listen to it long enough. 

I’d been stuck in that confining cabin, soaking up on all that rage, tap-tapping the toe of my boots on the floor anxiously while waiting for the couple outside to move on. 

_Ugh!_

Why did I care if they saw me?! It was the second time they pulled me into their shenanigans without a lick of consideration!

“Okay,” Mr. Peeta said after a long minute, his voice quiet and calm. “Obviously, there’s a glaring lack of communication we need to overcome, if we want this marriage to work,”

“Maybe…” Cashmere interjected quickly, breathless. “I just... I can’t go back to living under someone’s thumb.”

“I’m not your father, Cashmere!” There was something odd in Peeta’s voice, like hurt or disgust, maybe both. “I’m upset, but I won’t attack you. I won’t berate you. I just wished you’ve given me the curtesy of informing me this California thing was a deal breaker.”

I found myself nodding absently, agreeing with him, even though I had no idea what he was talking about. 

“I’m not breaking up with you!” Cashmere sounded panicked. “I just want to try myself out there. I understand, really, I do! your life is here, all your money and sweat is in that bakery, but... I’m finally free! I’m so grateful to you for that, Peeta, and I love you more than words can say... I don’t wanna lose you! Maybe we can make it work long distance. You can come visit me whenever you want. I will need you there when I find an apartment to live in, anyway.“

Peeta gave a small mirthless chortle. “You’re a piece of work, Cash!”

His anger went over my head.

”Peeta...” she sighed.

”Fine. I’ll pay for your apartment in California.”

 _Oh?_ _Was she asking him to pay for her apartment? Was he angry because of that?_ I was kinda naive in that particular. 

“I’ll also pay for the mortgage of the house you hand picked here. After all, I did promised you a safe place to live.”

“Are you angry?” The woman had gall to ask in a meek tone.

 _Um… duh_!

Another humorless chuckle, “I’m frustrated. Disappointed. My wife of _five months_ is basically leaving me for the possibility of _maybe_ getting a job 2000 miles away... Yeah, I’m mad! But as I said, I’m not your father. I’m not my mother either. I promised you I’d never mistreat you, and I stand by that, but you should go now. I don’t wanna say something I’ll regret later.” There was a pause. “My father is waiting for me, and I need to collect myself before going in there,”

 _Were they finally done?_ And _, what did Cashmere’s father do to her?_

Everyone knew Mrs. Mellark was horrible to everyone, so I understood that part; but, _was Cashmere’s father as bad as The Witch?  
_

I crossed my arms over my chest, exhausted.

After a minute, a car door opened and the annoying ding-ding-ding alerting that the key was in the ignition filled the silence.

“I’m sorry, Peeta,”

_Gross! Was that an old, petrified fry between the cushions?_

”Yeah. Me too.”

_Ugh! Gotta have a serious conversation with Prim about eating in my truck!_

”See you for dinner?”

 _Come on!_ _Leave already!!!_ I looked at the time on my phone, impatiently.

”Sure.”

 _There went my perfect record of ‘on time arrivals to work’!_

_”_ We can order take-out,”

Granted, I’d been officially working for less than a year, but still! _Thank you Mellarks..._

_Not!!!_

”If that’s what you want.”

I rolled my eyes, exhaling a contemptuous breath, studiously ignoring the myriad of emotions churning in my gut while making mental notes to myself:

#1: Check hair. _It probably needs re-braiding_.

”Yeah... you know my cooking is horrendous.”

#2: Check messenger bag for extra clothing to change (I reeked of sweat and damp clothes) _— Wait, I only had my gym uniform there. Ugh!_

 _”_ Okay... order in then. I’ll see you later,”

#3: Get umbrella back from Prim. _Mama can get her a new one._

”Bye,”

#4: Vacuum Francine after work. There were more old fries wedged between the bench bottom and backrest _... Didn’t want bugs in my car._

”Bye.”

The car door shut with a wet crunch, and a second later a motor rumbled to life and drove off, leaving the lot in blessed silence. 

#5... _or was it #6? Who cared?!_ next one: Ask Daddy if there was anyway we could negotiate a sabbatical from work? _Sabbaticals were a thing, right?_

I released a breath of relief, and brought my phone up to check the time once more.

I gave it an extra minute before sitting up, and shrieked— both startled and frustrated— making Mr. Peeta, who’d been leaning on my truck, shriek too...

“Fucking _fuck_!” The fool leapt a foot away from Francine, clutching at his chest, heaving ragged breaths. 

_Oh no..._ Did I scare him? Well _, Boo-hoo!_

_Served him right!_

The rain had definitely thinned out while I was trapped in the truck.

We stared at each other, motionless, for a long moment; then, I had to stick a finger into the collar of my shirt to peel it away from my skin.

 _Ugh! I_ really _had to get out!_

Mr. Peeta eyed me suspiciously and approached Francine slowly. “You can come out now,” He called, knocking on the window before resuming his previous position: back on Francine with his shoulder propped up against the sideview mirror. “I supposed you heard all that, huh?”

_Fudge! Was he going to confront me about eavesdropping on him and his wife?_

I didn’t answer, but I grabbed my stuff quickly to bail as soon as my feet hit ground. 

“I promise there won’t be any more yelling.” He said.

 _Okay... that was... actually_ promising _._

He could argue that I invaded his privacy, though. 

But, if he was expecting an apology, _he had another thing coming!_ I should’ve been snacking on jelly beans and drinking soda out of a twizzler, instead of being trapped in a super hot car because he was outside my door bickering with his wife. _If anyone deserved an apology it was_ me _! The birthday person!_

I dragged myself into the waning rain and put on my most aggravated scowl, as deep as physically possible, then, to shield myself, I projected all the teenager attitude I could muster (I didn’t even have to dig very deep for that one).

Surely, I was taking my first steps towards war.

_Eeeep!_

I locked the truck mostly for show, since really, there was nothing inside worth stealing, and everyone in Panem knew it, but it killed an extra 15 seconds before I had to acknowledge Peeta Mellark leaning on the opposite side of Francine, like some of specter. _  
_

“I’m sorry for scaring you.” He said quietly, head bowed.

 _Wait, What? Was he... being_ nice _to me???  
_

_No, you won’t, buster!_ We’re supposed to be at war! 

“I wasn’t scared!” I snapped.

The plastic poncho crinkled when I stepped towards the front of the truck. 

_Oh no!_ I was wearing Madge’s ridiculous Hello Kitty poncho!

 _Great!_ My whole _warrior-teen-out-for-blood_ image was probably ruined with the stupid little cat ears and cutesy pink bow on the hood!

_Damned you Madge!_

Mr. Peeta turned to face me, and I felt a painful pang in my heart at how sad he looked, like a kicked puppy, abandoned by the side of the road in the pouring rain.

Literally.

_How was he just standing there, in the rain like that?!_

Even with the partial protection of the poncho, my pants and boots were already waterlogged! 

#8 ( _or whatever_ ): Socks _. Dry_ socks _. Maybe ask Ms. Donner if she could lend me a pair of flip-flops or something?  
_

It didn’t matter. I was supposed to be mad at Peeta Mellark, not feel sorry for him!

I started looking for things to be mad at him for just to feed my fire... like his hair for example.

His hair was the shortest I’ve ever seen it in my life; I wasn’t sure why, but _that_ was enough to annoy me. Also, it made me dislike his wife even more than I already had— not that there was any evidence she was behind the new look— I mean, everything I heard her _say_ about Panem and Mr. Peeta himself, notwithstanding, the shorter curls rendered me irrationally ticked off.

The baker looked exhausted and leaner than I remembered ever seeing him, and that was just... concerning. Again, no way of knowing if that was Cashmere’s doing, but at that point, my mind was already made up about her.

Peeta tried to smirk, but it fell flat.

“Oh, I know you don’t scare easily, Miss K.” His eyes softened, “I was talking to the squirrel on that branch over there.”

He pointed at a tree about two yards away, where sure enough, a fluffy squirrel was timidly climbing the trunk, while surveying the area around us.

 _Was Peeta Mellark really trying to make light of the situation? Was it for my benefit, or his?_ Because it was his fault I found myself in such an uncomfortable position _. I was just an innocent bystander, dragged into this crap, against my will!_ _Really, he should be more discreet on choosing where to expose his own skeletons._

“He ain’t scared of you either.” I said flatly, the fight in me simmering down, although I was still miffed I was late for work and my feet were wet, and instead of walking away, leaving him to his own devices, I stood rooted to the ground staring at him. “Don’t you have an umbrella or something?” I demanded, rather rudely.

He shrugged. 

“Mmm. The missus took it.” He gave me that stupid lopsided smile of his, but it looked so sad...

 _Stupid heart!_ still beating wildly for Peeta Mellark.

The man was _married_! Unhappily, probably, but still _married_.

He was out of bounds!

Looking back, I wished I had just hop out of Francine and gone to work. I could’ve saved myself a great deal of hardship. But... Gosh, was I a pushover when it came to that man! 

Peeta pointed at the squirrel again. “I reckon you’re right. The furry thing’s tiny eyes are trained on you. Might mean it’s you he’s afraid of.” He cocked his head sideways, a deluge of rain water ran down his face; his hair was plaster to his head, two shades darker than usual. “Prolly heard of a girl with a shiny, long braid like yours, hunting down his cousins in the woods.”

“He shouldn’t be listening to gossip then.” I tilted my chin up at the squirrel for good measure. “Stupid roadkill!”

That sent the little hair ball skittering away, and I felt momentarily gratified at taking my frustration out on someone... some _thing_ smaller than me.

My anger towards the Mellark’s was justified, more so than my fears or guilt. 

I was drenched in sweat and late for work and I nearly gotten a few heart attacks while listening to them cussing each other out. 

I was a kid who very seldom witnessed shouting and fighting at home; guess I was sheltered in that way. I got caught by surprise by the conflict and didn’t know how to react. 

It was stupid!

It was uncool, really, bullying a squirrel because I had no other outlet (Later, I brought a whole nut-and-grains apology granola bar to the tree, hoping the little guy would forgive me for being mean to it). 

Deep in my confused heart, I knew it wasn’t my responsibility to give Peeta Mellark and his horrible wife privacy for their squabble.

Their fight wasn’t my business, they were on public property, and I was a _kid_!

I heard about a friend of Daddy’s in Georgia, who got charged with two counts of _Child Endangerment_ for fighting on their porch with their significant other, while some kids two houses down played in their own yard... I could’ve made a formal complaint against the Mellarks, and get them arrested for exposing me to their hostility! I shouldn’t have to hide in my truck, staring up at the fading material lining Francine’s roof and the stormy sky beyond, listening to all of the nasty words they threw at each other.

But I. Was. A. KID! Apparently an impresionable one at that. 

We stood there for a moment, me staring at him from the front of my truck, arms crossed over my chest, legs akimbo, deep scowl on my face and still sweating gallons under my plastic covering.

Mr. Peeta was still leaning backwards on Francine’s flank, shoulders hunched, and arms slightly folded over each other. His torso twisted towards me, so he could look me in the face.

A few seconds passed in silence. I really needed to leave, and the vicious, vindictive side of my seventeen year old brain rejoiced on the prospect of walking away first, and leaving him there staring after me like I had done so many times before... _How the tables had turned!_

 _Not really,_ the more rational side of my brain whispered.

Peeta Mellark just had an awful fight with his wife, and it was doubtful he’d even register if left, let alone stare after me with the same longing I always felt for him.

Logically, a freshly-turned seventeen year old girl wouldn’t even rate Peeta Mellark’s time or attention in the face of his marital issues.

“I’m late for work—“

“The Hawthorne boy came by yesterday.” He spoke just a second after I started, “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to interrupt you,” he winced. “Please continue,”

I swallowed.

My boots squelched when I shifted my weight to my other leg. My face was being pelted with rain droplets that mixed with the sweat and slid beneath my clothes.

“I— I’m sorry, what?” I frowned in confusion.

”Hawthorne boy. Gale? He came by the bakery yesterday.” Mr. Peeta said making a face. “I gotta apologize, I didn’t know you kids were dating. I just can’t fathom that the Little Miss Katniss with the twin braids in my mind’s eye, is old enough to date. Happy birthday by the way.” 

“Oh.” My frown deepened, “Thank you?” I didn’t mean for it to sound like a question, I just was reeling, getting more confused by second. “You remember my birthday?”

He smiled sweetly then. “Well, sort of. Spring Baby and all that. I knew it was coming, but I would’ve missed it if it wasn’t for your boyfriend.” 

Hearing Peeta Mellark refer to Gale as my boyfriend so casually made me internally cringe and wished for an early grave. For some reason, Mr. Peeta and Gale didn’t coexist very well in my head.

I grasped for the first thing that came to mind, just to get away from conversations about boyfriends.

”If by _Spring_ you meant _relentless freezing rain_... then sure, I’m a Spring Baby.” 

He laughed and shook his head ruefully, staring at the ground in front of him. 

“You should come to the bakery for a warm snack. On the house.” He said, very quickly adding, “I know you said you were cutting back on carbs and all we serve at the bakery is nothing but carbs… but, it’s your birthday. Maybe you can make an exception for today? I owe you for... you know,” he made a hand motion in the air towards the parking space his car had occupied before. “It’s the least I can do after being an incredible di—m—witted man?” His face contorted with the effort not to curse in front of me.

It would’ve been hilarious if not for the anxious knot in my throat. 

His words still hung in the air. 

_Squelch, squelch._

”Mmm... I was supposed to be at the candy store like 15 minutes ago. I may consider a cup of hot chocolate during my break... provided I still have a job and all that,”

”Oh, shit— Shoot! No, no, of course. I shouldn’t have kept you. Please, if you have any trouble with old Maysilee, let me know. I’ll vouch for you and even beg on your behalf.”

“Oh! Um... that’s okay, Mr. Peeta,” I said genuinely taken aback. “It’s fine. I’m sorry too, though, about... earlier?”

“No, please, Katniss, you have nothing to be sorry about. This,” again, he made a big, wide gesture with his hand, “is on me. I keep making a fool out of myself in front of you, and I don’t mean to scare you, or creep you out.“ He tried to smile but it was all wrong on his face, like it was costing him a lot to stretch his lips that way. “I’m very sorry, sweetheart.”

 _Did he just called me ”Sweetheart_ ” _?!?!_

“I love carbs!” I slapped my hand over my mouth before the words “ _I love you!”_ could spill right after. “I mean, I reinstated carbs into my diet... can’t live without bread, right?” Gosh, I sounded like a moron. 

Mr. Peeta nodded slowly, looking more like himself. “Well, carbs are pretty irresistible. But we also have gluten free options you can try,”

“Oh, no! Gluten full, thank you! I’m never dieting again.”

That made him laugh. For real.

“I knew you were my favorite customer for a reason!”

I tried not to let the comment go to my head, but after the _Sweetheart,_ it was kind of hard to keep the fuzzy feeling of infatuation from going straight to my heart, giving hope license to set down roots… _stupid of it!_

The situation was utterly hopeless. As far as my rational mind was concerned, my heart was an idiot!

* * *

Roses.

Pink, and white, and yellow roses greeted me home that evening.

Five dozen-bundles of the blooms wrapped in cellophane cones littered the kitchen counter, like it was some kind of flower shop storage facility.

 _Roses!_  
  
I huffed and crossed to the refrigerator for a bottle of Yoo-hoo and slammed the door shut, eying the bouquets suspiciously.

I wasn’t sure what they meant. The language of flowers was more my daddy’s thing, but roses from Gale on my 17th birthday couldn’t possibly mean friendship and togetherness they way they should. 

I rubbed my forehead for a minute.

 _Could the roses meant to be an apology?_ We did have a disagreement earlier in the week; it hadn’t been that bad, really... all things considered. 

I mean, the words “ _Take a hike, and don’t come back until you’re done being an insufferable jerk!_ ” did cross my lips, but... Gale ran his mouth on a regular basis, and at least it wasn’t one of our latest squabbles about me not putting out... those were the most aggravating ones, and we’re still like peas and carrots. So a fight between us, didn’t justify stinking up my house with the nauseatingly sweet smell of roses— unless _,_ it was payback; in which case, I had to admit the guy was evolving into something more cunning and devious. _I had to keep an eye on him._

Gale knew how I felt about roses.

I disliked them! _A lot!_

Not the flowers themselves, or their aroma per se… the blooms were truly beautiful and all, but the _smell_ of them made me anxious.

_Gale knew that!_

With a huff, I decided to give him the benefit of the doubt. Dating or not, Gale was my best friend, and while we could argue over the most inconsequential things, I could trust he would never do something to bother me purposefully.

I still wondered, what on Earth possessed him to give me flowers— _roses,_ to be precise— for my _birthday_?

He wasn’t the mushy romantic type, which was okay with me mostly... I mean, for Valentine’s Day, he took me to a paintball field for a few rounds (it was great! I kicked butt like a boss), but we had to wait for the weekend since February 14th fell on a school night; also, his buddy Thom joined us for the day, because he was friends with the owner’s son, and we got a discount on the tickets. It wasn’t conventionally romantic, but it was very us…

Now, flowers? Definitely not us.

“Wow! Smells divine in here,” Said Mama sauntering into the kitchen, and giving me a mini stroke.

I never heard her car pulling into the garage.

“No, it doesn’t.” I glared at her, breathing rapidly and massaging my chest to calm down my beating heart a little. “It smells like Mr. Snow moved in and his eviction notice to us came via his bushes.”

“Oh, stop it!” Mama answered cheerfully, “Mr. Snow is just a delightful gentleman, always dressed so sharp and smelling so nice like fresh flowers.”

I rolled my eyes and gagged behind her back when she opened the fridge for the jug of water.

Mr. Snow was the creepiest little old man I’ve ever set eyes on, and nobody could change my mind about it... the man never _did_ anything to me other than stare with suspicion and mistrust, but there was this portrait in his foyer, of a young girl in a colorful dress with snake-like brazaletes on her wrists and an orange ribbon or something holding her curly hair out of her pretty face, he constantly spoke to, like a lover... it made me shiver every time. 

I shook my head off the unsettling images of Mr. Snow and his mansion, and looked at my mother instead.

She was still in her scrubs, which meant she rushed home from the hospital before swapping outfits. She probably needed a shower.

“Are these all from Gale?” Mama asked knowing perfectly well the answer to that question. Without waiting for my answer, she babbled, “He's so sweet!” Then smiled, smelling the blooms deeply. “Oh boy! If things keep progressing this way, we might be visiting bridal salons soon.”

That did it!

The comment made me irrationally angry.

“ _I’m_ _seventeen_!” I bellowed, “what would I be visiting bridal salons at _seventeen_ for?”

My mother choked on her drink of water at my outburst.

Even if Mr. Peeta was single, a handful of years younger, and came right this second to ask for my hand in marriage, I’d ask him to wait until I was done with college before tying the knot. My grandmother Everdeen would roll in her grave if I did any different, and that was the truth!

After a quick bout of coughs, Mama stared at me, taken aback.

“I didn’t mean you’d be buying a bridal gown immediately, honey. I meant it more for like if things get serious between you two, after high school we will be okay with that,”

“Why would you asume that _I_ ’d want to get married fresh outta high school?” My temper boiled. “Just ‘cause that boy gave me a ridiculous amount of flowers for my birthday is not indicative of an impending marriage. Gale could’ve given me ten dozen gum balls for all I cared, and it would mean the same to me: not a romantic gesture!”

”Darling, flowers are inherently romantic.” Mama said in her sensible tone. “That’s one of the ways your Daddy shows his love and appreciation to me. Maybe Gale is trying to do the same, and we just want you to know, we are one hundred percent on board with it, if and when he pops the question. But of course, we do expect you to finish high school first!” 

My jaw just dropped to the floor in astonished horror.   
_  
Was my mother for real?_

“I’m not ready to get hitched! Why are you even pushing this conversation?” 

My mother sighed, dreamily. “Oh, Katniss. You say that now... but wait until Gale comes and gets on one knee before you. It’s the most exhilarating feeling in the world, to know another loves you so much they can’t spend one more minute apart from you! Marriage is just the best thing that could happen to a person!”

Well, that wasn’t always true.

Look at the Hawthornes for example. Gale’s daddy was away from home more often than not, leaving Hazelle working her knuckles raw to take care of all the kids on her own. Heck, look at Peeta and Cashmere! They were practically newlyweds and they were barely holding it together.

Cashmere seemed very ready to go chase her dreams— whatever those were— across the country, and her dreams didn’t seem to include her groom... his wallet, definitely, but not the man himself. (Madness! Or at least a serious malfunction in that woman’s brain, to want to leave such a hunk behind!) 

“I’m telling you, Katniss, once you feel the thrill of love, you’ll be counting the days until your wedding... I know I did! Gosh, your father and I a were so ready to start our lives together we even eloped!” 

“Can you please stop? I’m not eloping!” I snapped harsher than I should have. 

”I didn’t say you were, sweetie.” Mama frowned. “I’m not saying you should elope either. We would love to see you walk down the aisle like a proper bride. Getting married was the best thing that happened to me, and I just want you to be as happy as I am, with the your one true love.”

“Mama, I’m not you!” I snarled like a rabid animal. “I don’t know what happened with your parents, you were so desperate to get out of their house, you actually eloped to do so. But you’re becoming very overbearing with the Gale stuff, and want you... no, I _need_ you to back off, or _I’ll_ be rushing to get out of _your_ house.”

“Katniss... I just want you to be happy, and Gale is such a nice boy—“

“Then _you_ marry Gale and leave me the heck alone!” I had never screamed to my parents before, but there’s always a first time for everything. “I’m sick and tired of this!”

“Katniss Ivory Everdeen!” Shouted Daddy stomping into the kitchen. “That is enough, young lady! I will not have you raise your voice at your mother. Apologize to her... Now!”

I glared at my mother’s shocked, flushed face, and realized her features were blurry with my own tears. “If she apologizes first!” I bleated.

I couldn’t quite explain where all the rage radiating from me was coming from, I had a very stressful day, and all I knew was that I’d hit my limit. Lava needed to pour out of my mouth to cool my soul. 

Mama opened and closed her mouth a few times like a fish out of water, even Daddy was staring at me with wide open gray eyes. 

I figured, _in for a penny_... I was already in big, deep doo-doo, what difference would a _pound_ make? 

“I’m tired of listening to you decide who am I to fall in and out of love with! I’m sick of your meddling in my love life or lack there-of, deciding who I date without even considering my opinion on the matter, stops, right now!” My nose was running, _yuck_! “For all you know, I could’ve been waiting for the right moment to come out of the closet... you’ll never know because you’re too busy buying me a wedding dress to marry Gale! Or maybe I’ve been dreaming of joining a circus… or a convent! You ever think of that? That maybe I want to be a nun, or a carnie? _You’ve never asked!_

“And I love Gale! He’s my best friend and I can’t imagine life without him, but just because he sent me a few dozen roses, doesn’t mean I should drop my dreams— hazy things they are— to marry him the second I get my high school diploma! That’s… absurd! Irresponsible, even. If angels could get strokes, Grandma E would have one in heaven if did that! What’s next? You’re gonna barred me from taking birth control so you can be a granny too? Well, I’m sorry, but I’m never getting married and I’m never having kids!”

With that, I stormed down the hall and into my room.

And my daddy, being the adorably confused dork he was, stuttered his attempt at sounding stern, right before I slammed the bedroom door shut behind me.

”That’s right, young lady! Go to your room and think about what you’ve done... Said... You know what I mean!”

Of course, I didn’t think of _anything_ other than how miserable a birthday I was having.

I threw myself in bed like the dramatic teenage Disney Princess I was, and cried my eyes out until I fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I originally planned to leave ambiguous a couple of things: 1) Panem’s geographic location— now a smallish town in North Carolina, and 2) Peeta’s wife. I ended up marrying him to Cashmere, for the simple reason that while editing the dialogue of the fight, it felt strange he never referred to his wife by her name... in RL, people arguing don’t necessarily say each other’s names, but there were a couple of instances in the dialogue where it just felt weird not giving the woman a name. Anyway, Cashmere will be around for an extra chapter and hopefully we won’t see her again afterwards... fingers crossed 😊
> 
>  _Stepford Wives_ is a 1972 novel by Ira Levin. The story follows Joanna Eberhart, recently moved to Stepford with her husband and children, and her suspicion that the strangely submissive housewives of her neighborhood have all been turned into robots by their husbands. There’s a movie, starring Nicole Kidman, loosely based on the book of the same name.
> 
> The Child Endangerment charges is a real life story. Happened to an old high school buddy of my hubby. Technically, the charges were because the fight had gotten physical (She slapped him, he shook her— sorry if that was triggering). Two kids a couple of houses down saw the whole thing going down from their own front porch, and the parents called the police. As far as I know the guy had to spend a couple of days in jail. 
> 
> K’s aversion to roses will be further explained in later chapters, but, did you guys spot my Lucy Gray?!?!? I was excited to find a place to squeeze her in on this story, because truly, she’s just such a great character, it’s a shame no to include her _somewhere_! **Disclaimer:** Snow won’t be an antagonist of any sort in this fic, but we will hear about him again. 
> 
> I’m basing Grandma E on another TBOSAS character, just because it fits SO nicely, although there’s no proof any of the characters from TBOSAS’ D12 are direct relatives to Katniss, Peeta or Haymitch.


	4. Emo Period

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for y’all’s amazing comments in the last chapter, it fills me with great joy to hear you guys are enjoying this iteration of Katniss. We will have some more teenage pettiness in this one, just because she’s fun to write. 
> 
> That said, sorry it’s taken me so long to update... I’ve been having issues concentrating, and this chapter turned out more ramble-y and filler-y than I wished... I’ll try to move us forward in the next chapter, hopefully. 
> 
> All mistakes are mine. 
> 
> Keep safe and healthy.

I woke up because my arm was tingling with the unbearable prickling of bad circulation in an awkwardly bent limb. In other words, _My arm was asleep!_

I was laying in a puddle of drool where I face-planted to sob my woes away, and my cheek, all the way down to my chin, was covered in the stuff. My breath tasted acrid when I smacked my lips awake. I had a small pulsing on my temples, like the beginning of a headache. 

I hated naps in the middle of the day for a reason! 

I straightened up in bed, but my whole body felt heavy and groggy. _How long was I out?_ Couldn’t have been more than 20 minutes; there was still a bit of light out. 

I dragged myself out of my room, mentally preparing an apology to my folks. I needed to lay on the platitudes thick, sprinkle some groveling in if necessary... I had to smothered them in so many ‘sorrys’ and ‘pleases’, they’d have to give me a “ _first offense warning”,_ instead of a full on punishment. 

I vaguely wondered what would my parents consider an appropriate penalty for throwing a tantrum and sassing my mother? Surely they wouldn’t take _Francine_ from me, right?

That would definitely be a cruel an unusual punishment. 

I’d be back to riding the bus to school, and having to wait around for my friends— or worse, _my folks—_ to take me places and pick me up. There would be no freedom, no autonomy, no independence... _Dear Lord, Baby Jesus! Don’t let them take my truck away!_

My mind was racing, composing a speech with all the reasons I should be allowed to keep my truck in the event they decided to pull it, and I had just come to the conclusion that the most persuasive argument, was the fact that _they’ll_ be punishing _themselves_ by having to drive _me_ and Prim everywhere; but I only had so much time to put my thoughts in order, and before I knew it, I was already shuffling into the kitchen.

I was surprised to find Gale sitting with my family at the small breakfast nook beyond the counter.

Everyone looked as awkward and uncomfortable as a roach in a hen house. Except for Prim.

Prim just sat there peering around the table, trying to figure out what was going on. She was a precocious fourteen year old... I had every confidence she’d find a way to quiz anything out of Daddy.

_Good!_

Served everyone right! Gale for sending me roses for my birthday, and my parents for trying to marry me off at seventeen.

Granted, nobody was actively trying to marry me off, but it felt good to lord my excessive righteousness over people.

“Hey, Catnip.” Gale mumbled, standing up. “Happy birthday.” He cleared his throat, offering me a small box with the Mellark’s emblem on.

 _Seriously?! The baker is your competition dude!_ Or something of the sort... I didn’t know.

I tried to look normal, suppressing a cringe and avoiding eye contact with everyone in the room.

“Thank you,” I took the box and saw through the little cut out on the top, a big ol’ cupcake, frosted in white and tiny green spots.

 _So, roses and cupcakes._ The boy was giving me major anxiety with his confusing gifts.

“So, uh… about the roses…” Gale started.

“Ah!” I said, looking around the room for the cursed blossoms. There was only one vase with roses in the middle of the dining table, but the rest were gone. “Where _are_ the roses?” I asked, mildly curious, setting my pastry box on the table delicately.

Mama cleared her throat quietly, as if to not intrude, “I put some in the living room. Some, I’m setting aside to bring to Grandma E’s... with Gale’s permission of course.” Her red-rimmed, blue eyes found Gale’s gray ones for a second before setting on mine. “If that’s okay with you, too.”

I gave a curt nod.

Grandma E passed away when I was thirteen. The lady was a hoot and a character. She had this _gift_ of remembering any song she ever heard. She taught my daddy how to sing the sweetest melodies, by it seemed I inherited her knack for memorizing words to melody. We would sing together all the time. Also, despite Mama’s parents still being alive, Grandma E was the only grandparent I knew; she meant the world to me.

I missed her. She wasn’t even old when she died.

“That sounds nice. I’m okay with it, if Gale is okay with it.” I said, looking at him pointedly.

“Can I keep a couple and put them in my room?” Prim asked before Gale could say anything. She’d been oddly silent, observing the whole exchange like it was a tennis match. 

Gale grimaced. “I don’t care what you do with them,” he sighed in frustration, but he masked it well in front of my family. “I didn't mean to send so many. In fact, I didn’t plan to send any at all.”

”Oh?” It was a tiny, little sound that escaped my mother’s mouth. Not even a full word, but it conveyed all her curiosity, shock and disbelief.

_Even after the whole debacle from earlier, she was still meddling!_

I rolled my eyes, and forced myself to keep from glaring at her. I wasn’t stupid enough to start another row and lose my car privileges for certain. I had no idea if I still had any driving privileges as it was, but I wanted to keep it from becoming a reality for as long as I could.

Gale heard it too, of course, and gave me this quirky look; he hesitated for a second, “I know you hate roses.”

”Huh?!”

That time I _did_ glare at my mother, venomously so. It shut her and her inquisitive, little gasps right up. It also earned me a disapproving stare from Daddy, but for the first time in the evening I held his gaze, until he sighed and shook his head. 

Gale picked up on the weird vibe, but ignored it for the time being.

“Posy insisted on looking up flowers for your birthday, and you know how I can’t say no to her,” I nodded, because I knew, “and we were perusing the options online, but right when I was telling her roses weren’t such a good idea, Pa came home, and you know how that is... Chaos all around as soon—“ he caught himself before saying too much.

His face hardened. “Anyway, I left Posy in my room to go deal with Pa, and when I came back she was singing along with some videos of Elsa on YouTube. I was just relieved she didn’t have to see anything, it’s already hard with the other two and she gets anxious—“ his fist clenched, “so, next thing I know, I’m being notified that my order of _five dozen roses_ got delivered and it turns out, Posy somehow set up the order on her own and paid for it with Ma’s credit card, and she was very proud of herself for figuring out how to do it... she honestly thought she was doing something nice for your birthday.”

 _Well_ …

_Curses!!!_

What could anyone say to such a story? 

“Geez! Somebody say something before crickets start chirpin—“

“Primrose!”

“What?! Everything got so quiet! It’s weird!”

Daddy rolled his eyes. Then slowly, started to stand with Mama following suit. “Come on, lets get ready to take the birthday girl out to dinner,” He said smoothly, taking Prim’s wrist and tugging her up with him.

“M’kay.” Prim grumbled, eyeing me and Gale suspiciously. “But she better pick a restaurant that serves tacos!”

I had to fight the urge to hiss at my sister like a cobra about to snap. 

Gale and I stared at each other for a minute after my family left the room.

“Clever girl that Posy, huh?”

“Too clever. Especially for a five year old.”

“Mhmm.” I agreed, absently. “Scary, really, how easy those websites are, that a toddler can order stuff from them.” A thought occurred to me then, “How much cash did she set you back?”

It wasn’t a polite thing to ask, but Gale was first and foremost my best friend and we knew pretty much everything about the other— except for a couple of private matters of the heart, for obvious reasons— plus his parents’ messy situation wasn’t a secret to anyone in town anyway.

Unlike me, Gale worked out of necessity. He had a full time job at Mr. Latier’s fix-it shop in town, and every penny he made went straight to help Hazelle paying bills. Gale was a good son, and Hazelle was a wonderful woman, who used to be a stay-at-home mom until baby Posy was weaned from breastmilk, then she went on to work in a dry cleaning shop, since money was tight with Mr. Hawthorne coming and going all the time.

For the last two years, Hazelle had sunk every last bit of her savings into buying the dry cleaning business from her elderly bosses. Gale didn’t have the luxury to spend his hard earned money on flowers, when he had to put food in the table for his siblings.

Gale shrugged, “She didn’t spend that much. Little less than a hundred bucks,” he smirked, eyes lost in space, “she had a coupon, my Posy.”

I couldn’t help the snorting chuckle that escaped me.

“Of course she did! And here I thought you were trying either to apologize for being a right pain in the neck the other day, or basically give me the finger with them roses.”

The corner of his lips quirked up, the closest thing to a smile I’d get out of him. “Nah. If I wanted to apologize, I would’ve sent purple hyacinths or tulips. I learned that from your pops, by the way.”

”Of course you did,” Daddy was well versed in the language of flowers and apparently he had been teaching Gale as well.

“On the other hand, sending you roses doesn’t scream revenge. No, that’s just downright petty. If retribution was the message, I would’ve just eaten that cupcake in front of you and call it a day.” He said pointing a finger at the pastry box.

I gasped, my eyebrows shot all the way into my hairline, and then I stepped in front of the table protectively. 

_The boy was like an evil genius!_

Still, I couldn’t stop the smile peeking through. “Yeah, yeah. You’re superior because you speak botany and can think of stuff I’d hate even more than roses.”

“Damn right!” He said under his breath, grinning slightly.

I was secretly glad to be his friend. I couldn’t imagine what traps he’d think up for his enemies... he had a real knack for snares and that kind of stuff.

Another minute went by in silence.

“I’m sorry about your dad coming home.”

Gale scowled, then shrugged. “He was okay for the most part. Not so belligerent, now that I’m a foot taller than him.” That was true; by fourteen Gale was almost 6 feet tall, gangly too, but he’d grown into his frame quite a bit since. “Ma told him he could sleep in the couch if he didn’t cause any trouble, but I’m sure he’ll find his way back into the bedroom soon enough.” He shook his head, scowling. “Never mind all that. Let’s talk about yourself, birthday girl.” He looked at me with his calculating eyes, studying my face, “What’s with your folks being all _20 Questions_ on me?”

I groaned. “No! Tell me they didn’t grill you too badly?” I gave him a suffering frown. 

“They seemed a bit… off. Asked a lot of questions about how we’re doing as a couple, our plans for the future and such... _Lots_ of questions about the roses.”

I cringed. “Good. Dear. Lord. Baby _Jesus_! My family can be so extra!”

Gale arched an amused eyebrow, “You don’t say!”

I chuffed.

“Come on... spill,” Gale cajoled.

I inhaled deeply, “I may have yelled at Mama to stop meddling in my business…” I bit my lower lip. “I’m surprised they didn't turn you away, since I’m about ninety nine percent sure I’m grounded after pulling that stunt earlier today.”

“What did you say to her?” He asked openly curious, getting in trouble was very out of character for me.

I was basically a goody-two-shoes. 

I blushed, “Something awful.” I scowled at my feet, scuffing the checkered linoleum floor with my socked toe. “I told her she must had have awful parents to run off and marrying Daddy to get away from them. I may have implied she was an awful mother herself, for wanting me to follow on her footsteps marrying young. That I rather be a nun or a carnie before getting married and having children.”

I chanced a glance at Gale, and found his face dark and closed off.

_Great! I offended him too._

“Are you mad at me?” I asked just a tad defensive. “’Cause none of that was about you personally. It was about me and how I don’t see myself walking to the altar and having babies any time soon.” 

“I might...” He said darkly, but left it at that.

“You might what?” 

Gale didn’t respond for a beat.

“Gale?” I prompted.

It took him a second, but finally he looked up at me, with that little frown he always wore when thinking something through. I was ready to roll my eyes, expecting him to tell me how he’d might want children, I had a very good argument about why that conversation was a moot point, yet, I never expected what he said next.

“I’m joining the Marines.” He said, completely derailing the whole conversation.

“Beg your pardon?!”

“It won’t be any time soon, Catnip. Now, go ahead and open the cupcake.”

“Wait, hold on just a sec! When are you joining? Does Hazelle know anything about this? Is she okay with it?” I felt anxiety bubble up.

He motioned to the bakery box on the table, ”Did you look at it?”

I scowled at the box. “I… yes,” I rubbed my face with one hand. “Stop changing the subject!” 

He took the box gently, and started pulling the treat from within. I was just staring as his hands, those fingers I’ve seen so many times setting them most intricate, delicate snares.

“You know, at Mellark’s, they actually have a display with all these cakes and cupcakes of different sizes, decorated just like this one. If I could have spared the money, I would’ve bought the whole case. The baker actually seemed to be disappointed I didn’t take the whole thing, ha! Not that you could possibly eat all of it yourself, but I’m pretty sure our kids would’ve jump all over them sweets.”

By _our kids_ , he meant our siblings, since that’s what he called them on a regular basis; but all the talk about marriage and children, had me on edge, and then he came and dumped his Marines bomb on top of it all?!

“We’ll feed them rose petals.” I snapped, “It’ll taste like bedtime.” It was something I heard from Grandma E once. “Now, back to the marines...?” I was exasperated. 

“I was entirely surprised by the cakes, really.” Gale totally ignored me. ”Most people wouldn’t even know what a katniss flower looked like… no offense, Catnip, but only your pops could even know anything about swamp plants—“

“Yes, he’s a botanist! But, could you please? Stop it! Tell me about the Marines!” I practically screeched.

“Anyway... Here! Happy birthday!”

 _AAAARGH_! 

Suddenly, Gale thrusted a beautiful cupcake into my hands, and I had to stop myself from smashing it against the floor.

”What do you think?” He asked, hopeful.

I looked at the dessert, mystified, not really understanding what was going on until I realized that what I originally thought were tiny white and green frosting spikes, sticking up all over the top of the cupcake, were actually delicate katniss flowers made out of sugar. Dozens of them in small clusters, interspersed by arrow-like green leaves belonging to the katniss plant.

“What is this?” I asked stupidly, shifting my mesmerized eyes between him and the beautiful cake sitting on my palm.

Gale shrugged, “Its your birthday cupcake. Something I actually picked out for you, specially.”

My stomach twisted and I felt a sharp stab of pain in my chest.

Moresely, I asked, “You commission it, or something?” I touched one dainty sugar petal with my finger tips.

He gave me a relieved nod. “Kinda,”

After a moment of silence, I prompted, “ _Kinda_? What does that mean?”

“Well, Mr. Peeta was at the counter the other day— weird, right? he’s never on the front— so he personally tended to me. I told him I wanted something special for my girlfriend’s birthday, and after asking a couple of questions, he figured out I meant you, and it was like a switch went off in his head? He said he had just the thing for you. The he told me to come back today to pick it up,” Gale’s jaw tightened, “I just told you a whole story about this display in the bakery, where they have with a whole family of cakes just like your cupcake. Did you not pay any attention to what I said?”

I snapped my head up at him, narrowing my eyes. “No, I was too busy trying to figure out when my supposed best friend/boyfriend was going to tell me he decided to join the Marine Corps!”

Gale made an impatient sound at the back of his throat. “Did you like the cupcake or not?” He asked curtly.

“Yes! It’s beautiful, but that’s not important right now!”

“Of course it is! It’s your birthday. We can talk about the other thing later. Take a bite so we can find out if it tastes as good as it looks!”

“No... I wanna talk—“

“Catnip, that ain’t a conversation appropriate for right now, and you’ve done fill your quota of inappropriate for the day with that shit you pulled with your mama. Just leave it alone for another day, will ya?”

His tone wasn’t angry per se, but it made my blood boil to hear him talk to me so condescendingly; I was metaphorically rolling up my sleeves, winding up to throw some verbal punches his way, but my family decided to turn up just then, taking away my chance to confront my stubborn, jackass, of a boyfriend. 

“Ready to go, Catkin?” Asked Daddy, “Gale?”

I put the cupcake back in it’s box for later. “Yeah. I am.” Apparently, seventeen wasn’t good enough to even choose the restaurant for my own birthday dinner. “Hope everyone is fine with tacos.” I tried not to sound too bitter about it... it really had been a sucky birthday. 

Gale spent the rest of the evening brooding, as usual. _Pigheaded fool!_

I wasn’t opposed to him enlisting. If anything, I thought it was a likely choice for him and I would've been so very proud of him, had he given me a heads up. I didn’t much appreciate him springing it up on me without some sort of explanation, and on a day that had already taken a toll on me both physically and mentally.

The worst part was, I had a hunch as to why he was being so stubborn.

Something told me, Gale didn’t like what I told my mama about marrying young, because he expected something more involved from me in relation to his enlistment. I didn’t want to discover I was right, but I rather know where we stood than let it fester too long.

* * *

The day after my birthday, the weather hadn’t improved much… Neither had my mood for that matter. All the things that went wrong on my birthday bled through to the next day like a nicked artery on a white t-shirt.

Gale spent supper sulking harder than ever and refused to speak about anything other than hunting and football, like a petulant baby; then, on the drive back, Mama seemingly ‘remembered’ they didn’t order me a cake to sing happy birthday at the restaurant, and _apologized_ about it, but I could tell it wasn’t genuine… My folks were the type of parents who would never miss an opportunity to do something dorky and embarrassing for our birthdays. I just knew that if it hadn’t been for me lashing out earlier, they would’ve had the serving staff sing some cheesy birthday song to me, our waiter would’ve probably produce a Sombrero from somewhere and places it on my head during the song, and present me with a dish of sopapillas topped with a big scoop of vanilla ice cream and sparklers sticking out of the dessert.

Anywho, the only cake I had to eat for my birthday, was a quarter piece of the cupcake Gale gave me earlier, which I cut in four equal parts, to share with everyone, because, _unlike my mother, I don’t hold desserts hostage as an act of violence_ … plus, eating anything without sharing, while the rest of my family stared, would be just too bizarre for comfort. 

The petty side of me wished I had eaten the whole thing alone after all, because once the cupcake was gone, the frosting licked from fingers, and the appreciative praises sang, Daddy announced I was grounded for sassing at my mother— just like I knew I would— until further notice.

He didn’t need to be so cavalier about it in front of my boyfriend and baby sister, though. _Ooh! I was M.A.D!_

They didn’t take my car keys away, like I feared— thank goodness for small mercies!— , but my ‘ _going-out-with-friends_ ’ privilege was revoked for the foreseeable future, which was fine with me, since it was still soggy and gray outside most of the time, anyway. Gale was more of a sourpuss about it than he had a right to be, considering; he didn’t miss a beat letting me know how he felt about it through texts, after he got home a few minutes later. 

The next morning, everyone was still touchy at home; I still had to apologize for my behavior, but my mind couldn’t make itself up long enough to come up with something sincere to say, always oscillating between guilt, shame and pure, unadulterated, self righteousness.

For better or worse, Mama taught me that if I had nothing nice to say, I should say nothing at all, and so I decided to marinade on my feelings for a bit longer, before speaking my mind again… heaven’s knew I shouldn’t be allowed to run my mouth a second day in a row; I’d lose Francine for sure. 

So, after breakfast, I trudged along to school and work under the cold, unrelenting rain, with an old umbrella Mama lent me, since Prim still had mine… _the brat!_

I did remember to pack an extra pair of socks, also, I wore a pair of fast-dry, Columbia fishing pants, just in case I got soaked again. 

Over lunch at school, Madge and I discussed going to the mall to browse for rain boots together. We didn't want Wellington looking boots, but the cute, fashionable ones popular girls wore even when it wasn’t raining... then I remembered I was grounded, and my mood fell. 

Madge, being the resourceful young lady she was, did a quick google search that showed her another— more sneaky— option to get some nice rubber boots besides the mall; thank the redneck gods, Tractor Supply carried some acceptable rain wear that we both liked.

Daddy wouldn’t bat an eyelash at me running an errand to the Tractor Supply, like buying feed for Prim’s cat, Buttercup, or seeds and dirt for our vegetable and medicinal gardens. I just had to wait for the right opportunity to come up, and had Madge meet me there… My parents couldn’t get mad if me and BFF randomly happened to find ourselves together at a store and got rain boots on a whim, right?!

_Gosh! I was some kind of genius!_

Later, I was forced to park in the public lot again for work; at least, that time around the place was a conflict free zone. 

By then, my mood had lifted some, despite the rain and inadequate umbrella.

Since I was feeling better, as I made my way to Main Street, I started to pretended I was ‘Katniss Scissor-braids’, misunderstood heroine of some Tim Burton musical or something, taking a stroll on the wet sidewalks of my somber-looking town, under the doom and gloom of a typical gray day in my life. I hummed, _This is Halloween_ , as my own theme music all the way to the candy shop for good measure, and once there, I figured I’d act all woodenly and speak in a monotone, just to see people’s reactions, but much like the previous day, the store saw very little traffic… _a waste of a good plan in my opinion._

To my never ending annoyance, despite only having a couple customers pop in, Ms. Donner found ways to keep me busy until the last minute of my shift. She made me set up a new display at the windows facing the square; but since I was in a Burton-gothic mood, my display was made in a black, white and gray palette, almost monochromatic: I made a rainbow with off-white gumballs and licorice strings; a white chocolate bonbons and marshmallows cloud made the base of the bicolor rainbow, with white M&Ms for rain drops, complete with a bolt of lighting fashioned out of the silver wrappers of bite size Hershey’s bars. 

I was pretty proud of myself, honestly. I thought I showed promise in design!

Too bad Ms. Donner didn’t agree.

She told me to add color to her window in a huffy tone.

I obliged by throwing in a few red items around: I made rosettes out of pink gumdrops; all the red starburst from one bag made insects, and a few Twizzlers and a bunch of cherry Jolly Ranchers made decorative swirls all around the set up. I snapped a picture of my display, since I wasn’t sure it would survive the day after my boss took a look at it again.

I went to my last chore of the day, before my shift was over. I had to sweep the front room floor and move a barrel full of salt water taffy to the opposite corner. Simple, but time consuming.

Out of everything I did that day, sweeping was by far the easiest, and I did it while very casually singing _Sally’s Song_ under my breath.

Once the floors were clean, I did a short stretching routine, as if I was about to run a marathon; I cracked the joints in my arms, fingers and neck, rolling back my shoulders, and pumping my legs up and down. Then, I started dragging the barrel across the shop with bare teeth, grunting with every pull.

I was only halfway to the other end of the shop, sweating, struggling and huffing a ragged burst of air. I’ve forgotten how heavy that stupid barrel was, and my arms felt like jelly already. I let go of the rim I was holding on to, to take a breather, my hands clutching my knees to keep them from giving out. Suddenly, out of nowhere, a big, warm, bear-like body sidled up with mine, and a pair of thick arms, covered with copious dark blond hair, appear into my periphery, to pull my heavy load the rest of the way for me, like it was nothing. 

I chuffed an annoyed breath through my nose, and stood to the side with my gelatinous arms crossed over my chest, for fear of them falling to the floor, like a pair of sticks... or better yet, like the removable arms of a Mr. Potato Head. 

_His arms were bulging! Was that a tattoo?_

“Um… where do you want this?” Mr. Peeta asked with his ridiculously deep voice. 

_At the bottom of the sea, where it belongs, thank you very much!_

“That corner to your right, please.” I directed him with a vague hand gesture. 

I tried not to glare at him… too much.

_You can go into the corner too, Mister, and think about what you’ve done of late!_

“Is here okay?” He asked once the barrel was in place.

“Yup. Perfect.” 

_Just like those plump lips of yours…_

_Who said that?!?! Traitorous libido! Stay out of this, I’m still mad at him!_

Mr. Peeta nodded at me, and I forced myself to stop scowling. The man just saved me from burning a bunch of precious calories and spilling more precious sweat, not to mention all the precious time he saved me as well.

“Thank you, Mr. Peeta.” I muttered to my combat boots. 

“No problem.” 

We stood there at some kind of stalemate, me awkwardly avoiding his eyes while he studied me with a small frown. 

“So, how was your birthday?” He asked, clearing his throat after an unbearable minute of silence.

“Oh,” I shrugged, “it was okay.” 

_Not!_

I chanced a glance at him; his arms were crossed over his broad chest.

 _That_ was _a tattoo!_

_How did I not know he had a tattoo?!?!_

_Ugh! Stop ogling him!_

After shaking my mulish head, my eyes returned to his face; Mr. Peeta seemed to be genuinely interested on how my day had gone, and I was still in a ranting mood, so...

“Since I was so late for work yesterday, Ms. Donner and I ‘worked out a deal’,” I mined air quotes with my fingers, “in which ‘we’” air quotes, “would consider my 15 minute break for the day ‘fulfilled’,” more air quotes, “from my earlier 20 minute absence, and work straight through the rest of my shift.”

Mr. Peeta grimaced, and I took immense pleasure at the look of abject guilt on his face at that tidbit of information.

He didn’t need to know that all I did the day before was sit on my butt, browsing Facebook and Instagram on my phone, since we had no costumers come in for almost the hole evening. I just liked how discomfited and contrite he looked about it, and I intended on enjoying the delicious sight. 

“Then, I rushed home so I could make it in time for a celebratory dinner at _La Fiesta_ with my family and my boyfriend.” 

Saying the words ‘my boyfriend’ in front of Mr. Peeta, felt deliciously vindictive and empowering.

Not that Peeta Mellark would or should care that I was seeing anyone, since he was married. And a grownup. 

“Best Chimichangas in town,” he said absently, rubbing the back of his neck and still looking chagrined. 

“Yeah. I’m more partial to gyros myself, but Prim wanted tacos, and don't get me wrong, I love Enchiladas Verdes more than anything in the culinary world…” I trailed off.

“But?” Mr. Peeta encouraged me to continue with a tiny nod.

 _Man, his eyes were_ so _blue! His hair still looked stupid though, all short and styled back._

I looked away from his arresting eyes, took a deep breath, and while I wasn’t trying to say so much, I couldn’t stop the word vomit that followed.

“I just wished it’d been my choice to go to _La Fiesta_ , on _my_ birthday! It just feels like I never get to choose the restaurants anymore. Prim always wants chips and salsa, and Gale hates Greek food and Arby’s… who hates Arby’s?!? They have like, the best curly fries in the world! It’s always _Del Taco_ with him, like… why is everyone so fixated with tacos, anyway?!? I just want a Mediterranean lamb burrito, dripping with indecent amounts of Tzatziki sauce, and a side of tomatoes and feta cheese, but I have this... _exhausting_ impulse to be easy going, and accommodating, and wanting to keep everyone content and comfortable… Is like… I never realized how tiring ‘going-with-the-flow’ could be, and all I want is a meal to go from _Athena’s_ on Third Street, but no one seems to care what _I_ want!”

_There!_

I finally said it, and without dropping a single tear! It only took a smidge of the sympathetic ear from someone I admired to blurt it all out, and it felt like an enormous weight had rolled off of me. 

“That sounds… like a lot, Miss K.” Peeta said sincerely, scowling slightly. “I’m not gonna lie and say I know how you feel, because I only know how it felt for me, being seventeen, pressured by my folks and peers.” He paused until I looked up at him, “I do have to agree with you though, _Arby’s_ curly fries are prime!” 

I kind of snorted a sardonic laugh. Of course he’d try to make me smile… _jerk!_

I twirled the end of my braid around my index finger. “I bet you didn’t get grounded on your birthday for being a brat.” I arched a challenging eyebrow at him. 

He huffed a chuckle, “Oh, you don’t know the half of it. My mother beat my hiney for just about anything, until I was her height. Then, she moved on to name calling and taking away my stuff: iPod, gaming consoles, allowance money, whatever she could get her hands on, until I moved out.

“It didn’t matter if it was my birthday, or Christmas. If she thought I deserved punishment, I got it. It sucked, and my father only put his foot down when the last thing she tried to hold from me were my wages. My father said she couldn’t do that. It was illegal, and they could get into a lot of trouble. I did threatened to go to a competing bakery, if she ever tried that crap in me again. That finally stopped her.” 

I was absolutely disgusted on his behalf!

_The nerve of that horrible witch!_

“That awful w— _experience_...” I nearly choked, “of yours,” The last part came out like hiss. 

_Ugh! Great going, you moron! You almost called Mrs. Mellark a ‘Witch’ in front of Mr. Peeta!_

My face burned with embarrassment.

He must’ve known too, because he just shrugged it off like his mother’s abuse was inconsequential. 

“I’m sorry… telling you all of that was probably inappropriate. It’s water under the bridge, any way.” He smiled, self deprecatingly sweet. 

_Would his lips feel as pillowy as they looked, pressed against my..._

_STOP IT!_

My mouth was forming a protest— either to his words, or whatever shenanigans my brain kept spewing out, I wasn’t sure— but Ms. Donner interrupted, right before any words could leave my mouth. 

“Katniss, dear,” 

_My floor!!! My immaculately clean floor!_

The woman stepped distractedly into the front room, wiping her hands off on a powdery apron, dusting sugar and flour all over the place, “it’s a quarter to seven. I think we can pick it up... Oh, hello, Peter! nice to see you, hun.”

_Pee-TA!  
_

_Ugh!!!!_

“Evening Ms. Maysilee,”

“How’s Ceres, m’boy? I heard she was under the weather?” 

_Ha! She was probably_ causing _the weather!_

“Mother is well, at home with the sniffles, but otherwise fine.”

_Huh! I didn’t know witches get the sniffles too..._

“Glad to hear it’s nothing awful. Lord knows it’s hard to stay healthy with all the pollen still clinging to the air.” My boss shook her graying, strawberry-blond head, and for a second I felt like I was watching a premonition of what Madge would look like at 45 or so. 

I always managed to forget Ms. Donner and Madge’s mom were twin sisters. Which was a little weird if thought about it, since the reason Ms.Donner hired me on the spot, was because I was so close with her only niece, and they adored each other. 

But maybe it wasn’t super weird to forget those connections anyway. Panem was a small town; half the population were related to each other in some capacity, and the other half was assimilated into familial folds all over the place when no genetic bond was present... it was easy to forget who was related to whom sometimes. It was actually weirder, that people thought the Hawthornes and the Everdeens were cousins, when we were really not related at all. 

We shared some physical characteristics, like our olive skins, dark hair, gray eyes; yet, Gale’s father was 50% Cherokee, and we didn’t have one drop of native blood in us. Daddy was mix of Spanish, Libyan and American. It made for a very interesting Heritage for sure. 

“Well, give your parents my regards, Peter, darling.” _Ugh! That’s not his name!_ And, _stop messing up my pristine floors! “_ Tell Ceres I hope she feels better soon, our weekly game of bridge won’t be the same without her.” 

_What, like free of that sulfur and brimstone smell that always trailed The Witch?_ That didn’t sound bad at all to me! 

“Will do, ma’am.” Mr. Peeta beamed. 

Ms. Donner smiled at him, and then turned to me, “Katniss, would you mind helping Peter before taking off for the evening?” 

“Not at all, Ms. Donner. I’ll take of Mr. _Peter,_ and then lock the door _._ ” I smirked smugly.

Mr. Peeta shook his head ruefully, trying not to laugh. 

“I’ll leave you in Katniss’ capable hands, then dear. Good evening to you both.”

My boss hadn’t fully turned away from us, when I started asking in my most professional voice, “What can I do for you, Mr. Peter?”

He just smiled softly, “You’re just gonna keep calling me _Peter_ , ain’t ya, little missy?”

I gave him an amused half shrug. “Maybe. Now, back on to business… how can I help you?” 

He shook his head again, a rueful smile still in place, “To be honest, I only came in to check on you,”

I frowned, confused.

He harrumphed, and his face took a serious look, “I didn’t see you after your shift yesterday, and I got… worried?” He scratched the back of his neck, nervously. 

_So… checking on me, huh?_

I gave my head a little shake to dislodge the pesky, excited, unrealistic ideas filling up my brain, that Mr. Peeta could possibly be interested in me in _that_ way. 

“I mean, I still owe you from yesterday, and now I feel _terrible_ I cost you your break, ‘cause I can’t play nice with my wife in public.” He pursed his lips. “I just wanted to make sure you were fine. I wanted to apologize, you know?” He looked away. 

_Oh… that was it, then._ He was still feeling guilty about yesterday’s debacle. 

_[mentally insert GIF of Mr. Burns’ evilly steepling fingers together, here] Excellent!_

“It’s no big deal,” I demurred. “It was just one day without a break, I survived it.”

“Perhaps. But you should never have your brakes taken away from you like that. You’re entitled to them, you know, even if you’re late for work.” His face was serious, and I was just too mesmerized taking in all of his micro expressions to wave him off. 

_*Sighs* So smart!_

“Anyhow, the invitation for you to come have a cheese bun and a cup of hot chocolate at the bakery— My treat!— it’s still on. Its more accurately, my bribe, but don’t tell anyone I said that,” He put his index finger to his lips for a shushing gesture, and winked at me conspiratorially.

_Excuse you, Sir, you’re under arrest for winking while being handsome!_

I pursued my lips, and crossed my arms behind my back and pretended to consider it, while actually pinching my forearms as hard as I could to keep myself from doing something truly embarrassing, like blush and giggle exactly like the crushing schoolgirl I was. 

“Well, I have to admit, you’re making a lot of sense, sir. Hot chocolate _is_ amazing groveling material. Makes the forgiveness go down smoothly.” 

“Yeah?” His mouth turned sideways with a toothy grin. “I Hope you won’t be offended when I pile you up with some cakes to bring home as well. You know, as a peace offering, for ruining your birthday yesterday.”

_The nerve on that man!_ As if I wasn’t head over heels for him already, he had to tempt me further with cake?!? I wasn’t made of steel! I was made of very weakened sweet teeth! 

_Peeta Mellark was a fiend!_

Also... _Mama, see how it’s done?!?!_

“Nah! You didn’t do much ruining.” I waved a hand dismissively. I mean, he _did_ ruin my birthday a little _,_ but he was offering free, Mellark’s cake to take home! Plus, he did move that cursed barrel of taffy to the other side of the room for me, so... “Okay… I’ll take you on that offer. I’m just gonna grab my stuff and come over.”

“Sounds like a plan, Miss K.” He turned to leave, but stopped in his tracks suddenly, tilting his head towards the main window of the shop. “Nice display, by the way,”

At my confused stare, he smiled and pointed at my forgotten masterpiece. “I saw you working on it from the bakery.” He explained. 

“Ah!” I nodded, smugly, stepping closer to him and peeking over to see my black, white and red rainbow. “Thanks. It’s from my Emo Period.” 

Peeta gave an honest to God belly laugh, and I’d never felt so proud of myself as I did in that moment.

“It’s good! Very apt for the weather.”

_Damned right it was!_

_“_ Very artistic and bold. If I ran a gallery, you’d be my number one artist!” 

_The man had got to go… soon!!_ Before my stupid knees gave out, from all the nervous knocking they’ve been doing with his copious attention. I was dangerously close to combust with emotions, and it would not be pretty. 

“What can I say? Nature is my muse.” 

“And you’re m—” Mr. Peeta suddenly went rigid, his blue eyes bulging comically in his face. He started to choke up on a swallow. 

I stepped closer to him and gave him a generous pat on the back, panicking when a bout of coughing seized him. 

“I’m okay!” He gasped, jumping almost a foot away from me; one hand rubbed awkwardly at his chest and throat, the other one raised shoulder high to stop me from coming closer. “I’m fine!”

I gave him some room, bitting my lips, anxiously. 

_Poor guy! I hoped he was okay._

“Are you sure you’re fine? Can I get you some water?” I asked, but he waved me off again and to an extra step back.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m alright… bad swallow. Went down the wrong pipe!” His eyes watered some, “I’m just… gonna…” he hooked a thumb backwards, pointing at the bakery across the square. “Yeah...” 

Before I had a chance to respond, he turned on his heel and practically ran out the door, in three long strides.

I simply shrugged and pulled the broom from where it rested against the counter; I gave the floor another pass to gather up the stuff Ms. Donner had sprinkled all over it, and once that was done, I grabbed my bag, my mom’s clunky umbrella, and headed out the door, calling a good evening to my boss. 

Outside, the rain had finally stopped, bringing a pale, dying sun into the horizon.

The air smelled crisp and earthy. My favorite smell, after freshly baked bread and pastries.

With that magical thought in mind, I stepped forward, slipping the rubber loop of my mother’s rusty umbrella over my wrist, to swing it like a baton, humming a slower version of _Chim Chim Cher-ee_ the whole way across the square to Mellark’s, while my mind started running likely scenarios in which I could connive my way into cheese buns to-go, besides the cake Mr. Peeta already offered?!?

Finally! Turning seventeen was working in my favor.   
  


* * *

The bell above Mellark’s door thrilled cheerfully, and the aromas of yeast and sugar slapped me square in the lungs as soon as I stepped foot inside.

My stomach gurgled dramatically, as if I hadn’t just snuck a handful of caramel popcorn out of my private stash beside the register, right before leaving work. The smell of fresh bread was better than any candy in the history of food, and that was gospel! 

“Welcome to Mellark’s!” Chirped the overly enthusiastic voice of Delly Cartwright-Mellark.

 _Why?!?!_ I whined internally. 

“Katniss Everdeen, is that you, sugar? Hadn’t seen your darlin’ face around in a hot minute!” The woman— _freaking_ — clapped!

I scowled at my feet for a minute, grappling with the sudden urge to stomp to the beaming woman and stuffed her smiling mouth with a wad of napkins or something.

 _Whoa, Nellie!_ My brain screeched. Delly Mellark was a very nice person, super empathic and sweet. She didn’t deserve a wad of napkins stuffed into her mouth by a jealous teenager.

Little green monster!me receded to the very back of my mind, properly shamed and chastised by common sense!me. 

_Good!_

I may have had an unrequited crush on a married man, double my age, but my mama didn’t raise no bully! I never thought I’d think it, but, _I might need a break from Peeta Mellark._

Either way, I cleared my throat, and forced myself to smile like a proper lady. “How do you do, Mrs. Delly?”

The woman beamed at me, big ol’ blue eyes shining with happiness. “Oh, I’m doing just fine, especially now that the morning sickness has settled down finally.” She said, patting her stomach from behind the counter. 

_Really?!  
_

_What was this... her fourth? Fifth?_

“Congratulations, ma’am. I wasn’t aware you were expecting,” _Again_ …

I was a tad embarrassed by my uncharitable thoughts about the woman, but also for not knowing of her condition, those kind of news traveled fast in Panem. 

“Don’t you fret about it, hun. Most people haven’t noticed yet.”

 _It couldn’t be her fifth_ , I wagered, _her first was in Vick’s class wasn’t he?  
_

_So... definitely the fourth!_

Mrs. Delly was a little on the plumper side, with soft curves and ample hips, the kind Grandma E would call ’prime for childbearing’. No idea if that was true or not, but Mrs Delly was probably on her fifth pregnancy, so, at the very least, she was exceedingly fertile… or exceedingly amorous— 

_Geez, brain! What’s the matter with you?!_

“I’m just glad we’re going into summer vacation already, I can tell this little rascal will be a handful to carry!”

_Well, objectively speaking, Ms. Delly was married to a Mellark man… I mean, doesn’t Chris Hemsworth have like... a bunch of babies or something?!? He’s handsome..._

“Ugh! Look at me babbling and babbling nonstop. It’s a good thing I don’t get paid for tend this counter,” Delly laughed openly.

_I mean, Chris Hemsworth is no Chris Evans, but... neither had nothing on Mr. Peeta in my humble opinion._

My mind was actively pondering the virtues of marrying a handsome man, now.

“I’d be getting the boot if I was an actual employee here,” Delly giggled. 

_I mean,_ given the chance _, would I be one of them women, who’re always barefooted and round with little ones every other year, if I was Mrs. Peeta Mellark?_

_..._

_..._

_Sweet Baby Jesus in the Manger! Would you please QUIT?!_

My mind was so far away from that shop, It was a good thing Delly Mellark was laughing hard at her own jokes and her eyes were shut, because my visceral reaction to all the nonsense my ridiculous brain kept churning up, had been to cover my mouth with both hands, and scream at myself to get a grip.

My face was burning with the mortifying filth my mind concocted. My ears were burning too, same thing with the tip of my nose and down my chest.

I started eyeing the glass doors behind me, wondering if it there was any way the floor could crack open right that second, and swallow me whole, before I had to make an excuse to leave like a coward?

Of course, looking to the door just led my eyes to a tall, all glass fridge, pushed against the window facing the square. That was where all the pretty cakes sat on display, enticingly, showcasing the bakery’s fine creations. 

I gasped. 

My hand fell from my mouth slowly. My embarrassment mostly forgotten.

I took a decidedly steady step towards the display case, with eyes wide and eager. 

It was probably rude to walk away from Mrs. Delly, Since age was still yakking about Lord-knows-what, but my mind was practically mush with surprise. 

Gale was right! 

There was a whole family of katniss cakes artistically arranged in the middle tier, where the eyes of people walking by would naturally fall first, I just couldn’t believe they were real.

As usual, the artistry poured into the cakes was exquisite. The level of detail flawless.

The bigger cakes had shoots of green arrow shaped leaves, and the delicate flowers themselves were dotted with reddish centers. The blooms were so life-like, it felt like I was looking at a patch of katnisses by the lake Daddy took me fishing every other weekend. 

I started rubbing my collarbone and chest to ease the knot forming in my throat.

It was impossible all those cakes were meant for me, it just couldn’t be… 

My free hand brushed the display case longingly. 

“Pretty ain’t them?” Mrs. Delly’s voice— practically next to me— startled me out of my reverie. “So different from his usual work, but our Peeta is a bona fide master! Could I get you anything from the case, dear?”

I jumped at least a foot in the air and snatched my hand from the glass right away. I tore my eyes from the cakes, “I— um…”

“Katniss, you made it!” 

I swallowed thickly, and turned to watch Mr. Peeta sauntering around the counter to join me and Mrs. Delly by the case. 

“I’ll take from here, Dells, thank you!” He said, smiling warmly at his sister-in-law. 

“Good!” She said with a good natured chuckle. “I’m gonna go home and put my swollen feet up! Send your brother along soon, will ya?” She leaned forward and planted a kiss to his cheek. 

I turned away from the display of affection so fast, I gave myself a sore neck. 

“You got it! Go rest, beautiful, before father drops off the hooligans.” 

My mind was astonishingly blank. 

My eyes were glued to the pretty white blooms in front of me, since it was the only thing I wanted to do more than running out that door, crying, screaming and cursing Peeta’s name for unintentionally breaking my heart every other hour of the day in some horrifically cruel way. 

We must’ve had stand there for close to a minute, in stilted silence, way after Ms. Delly left. 

“You like ‘em?” At the deep, velvet of Mr. Peeta’s voice, my mind came to the present, in a slow fog.

My face must’ve shown trepidation and shock, because the next thing I knew, I was being ushered to a table, closest to the counter. Two large cups filled with steaming hot chocolate, topped with whipped cream, a generous serving of mini marshmallows and a dash of cinnamon, materialized in front of me before I could blink, followed by a plate with three steamy cheese buns. 

“You mind if I sit with you?” He asked, looking a little unsure.

I nodded, because he clearly wasn't gonna relax until I agreed. 

“I hope the chocolate is to your liking, I hope it’s not too hot.”

“Is perfect!” I'd yet to take a sip of my beverage, but I knew it’d be perfect either way. 

He tried to smile, but it looked forced. 

Unable to keep my mouth shut, I sat the cup down and said, “I loved them.” 

Mr. Peeta tilted his head back, frowning in confusion. 

“The cakes.” I said quickly, and because I could feel blush heating my face, I grabbed a bun and stuffed half of it into my mouth. 

Peeta smiled. “I’m glad.” He drank out of his cup, and added, “Gale seemed to like them too, but he wouldn’t take all of them home to you.”

”Oh, it’s only ‘cause he couldn’t pay for all of them. His sister had already blown his budget with roses.” I wrinkled my nose in distaste, and suddenly realized what I just said; my eyes bulged in mortification at that blatant betrayal of Gale’s trust. ”I shouldn’t have said that! Oh no! Gale is gonna _kill_ me if he finds out I said that!”

I pushed away my half eaten cheese bun, nauseous with guilt and at the brink of a panic attack. 

”Hey, hey! It’s okay. You didn’t say anything wrong.” Mr. Peeta tried to sooth. “Your friend said as much himself... about the roses and all. He was adamant on only taking one cupcake, although I offered to give him the rest of the cakes for free, as a birthday present for you. He’s a proud one, Gale. He wouldn’t take anything he couldn’t comfortably pay for, despite my insistence that it was my treat.”

That sounded like Gale, alright. He never took charity from anyone, and he would never waste money frivolously. 

“It’s a good thing, really. He being so disciplined,” Said Peeta patting my shoulder gently. “He’ll be great with money and running a household when his time comes.” 

Okay... I didn’t like that kind of talk about Gale’s future as a prospective husband, but I appreciated Mr. Peeta’s effort to help me calm down, so I swallowed my momentary panic, and tried to steer us back to our original conversation.

“How come you made so many katniss cakes? They look like a lot of work.”

Peeta smiled faintly, rubbing the back of his neck, “It’s a long story. I don’t want to bore you with it.” 

I was tearing another big bite out of my cheese bun, “Mmm... you could never bored me!” I stared with close to no finesse, still chewing my mouthful of pastry. “Try me!” 

Some weird expression flashed through Peeta’s face, but it was gone before I had a good look at it, so I gulped down my food, leaned forward on the table and squeezed his arm lightly.

”I love long stories, more if they have to do with food. I’m all ears!”

He studied my face for a second, nodded and said, “My mother was bitching about me wasting fondant one day...”

  
  


TBC...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... don’t kill me for the cliffhanger... the chapter was almost 8000 words and I had to cut it somewhere. I promise for sure, the next part will have some real plot development and we will have a time leap. Also, before anyone thinks on cussing me out, Peeta is still not attracted to Katniss romantically, so yeah. 
> 
> The title of this chapter is a silly reference to Pablo Picasso’s Blue Period, (1900-1904) when he only painted in blues and aquas and very little else for accent. 
> 
> The Tractor Supply Co. is an American chain-store that offers, as you have guessed, agriculture products, along with stuff for home improvement, lawn and garden, animal and pet care/feed… they even have limited livestock like chicks, ducklings and bunnies for sale. Personally, we buy pet supplies there, and the occasional home decor to give my mother-in-law, since she’s into farming/country decor.
> 
> “This is Halloween” and “Sally’s Song” are part of the soundtrack for the 1993 stop-motion film The Nightmare Before Christmas written and produced by Tim Burton. Burton is a filmmaker best known for his gothic fantasy/horror films. 
> 
> “Chim Chim Cher-ee” is one of the songs performed in the 1964 Walt Disney film-musical _Mary Poppins_ , based on P.L. Travers’ children’s book series of the same name. 
> 
> **Ceres:** Roman goddess of agriculture, grain crops, fertility and motherly relationships. Her Greek equivalent is Demeter. The word Cereal is derived from her name. Although we don’t really relate Mrs. Mellark with any good motherly relationships, I think the name fits her, being an ancient Roman name, as is the naming fashion for people from the Capitol. This isn’t the first time I’ve named Mrs Mellark “Ceres” though, so, you may already know this tidbit of info… I just... like it? 🤷🏻♀️
> 
>  _La Fiesta_ and _Athena’s_ are real restaurants in my area. _Arby’s_ is an American chain restaurant with awesome curly fries. All these restaurants are my son’s faves, so they got a mention.
> 
> Katniss mentions she didn’t get a brake at work the day before, and I’m pretty sure that’s illegal. However, I didn’t research that part and took a huge license with it to fit my story. People, make sure you know your rights and don’t let your employers abuse you.
> 
> In case you were wondering, Chris Hemsworth—A.K.A: Gale’s brother, Thor— has three children, and is happily married to wife Elsa Pataky. If you know me, you’d know I have a thing for the Avengers 😊


	5. A Galeniss Punch to the Gut

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Warning:** there’s Galeniss in this chapter. DONT KILL ME!!! They _are_ dating, and K deserves to be/do stuff a normal teen with a boyfriend do. She’ll be a grown up soon.
> 
> Also, time jumps galore, back and forth

> _Some weird expression flashed through Peeta’s face, but it was gone before I had a good look at it, so I gulped down my food, leaned forward on the table and squeezed his arm lightly._
> 
> _”I love long stories, more if they have to do with food. I’m all ears!”_
> 
> _He studied my face for a second, nodded and said, “My mother was bitching about me wasting fondant one day...”_

* * *

* * *

**  
July 2007**

Daddy and I had been sitting in the truck for over 30 minutes. 

“What are we waiting for?” I asked from behind a booklet of Kids Sudoku.

“A couple of buddies. They’re just running behind,” Daddy said, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel, almost as restless from waiting as I was. “Your sudoku games any good?”

I was on my fourth completed puzzle already. I shrugged one skinny shoulder. “A little easy, but it’s fine to pass the time, I guess.” I’d just spotted all the missing number 7s of the next puzzle.

“Mmmm… we can get you a new book later, if that one is too—” A motor rumbled, making Daddy perk up instantly. “Here they come!”

“Finally!” I dragged out the word like only a 9 year old could. 

I clambered off the truck, and rolled my eyes good naturally as soon as I saw Finnick Odair’s flashy Dodge Charger, with its ridiculous hot pink racing stripes on matte black paint job; it reminded me of something Barbie would drive, and while for most men, pink would be an unthinkable choice, it suited Mr. Finnick just right… that didn’t mean the man should’ve driven to the lake in such an impractical car; it was the wrong kind of muscle needed for dirt roads, but nothing was ever what it looked like on the surface when Finnick Odair was involved. 

Mr. Finnick was perhaps my favorite grown up besides Daddy— and a certain baker, I wasn’t supposed to be crushing on—. He was the best fisherman, hands down, and his company was always welcome, especially since he was a notorious ‘snacker’ and his massive tackle box was always lined with candy bars and Little Debbie treats.

“Hi! Sorry we’re late. My bad!” Finnick threw open his car door and tripped on his own feet trying to rush out of his vapid ride. “I couldn’t find my lucky bobber, and you know how it is…”

We all intoned together: “Skill means nothing without a lucky bobber!” 

Daddy shook his head, but we were both smiling. I didn’t think Mr. Finnick’s little saying made sense at all… I’ve seen the man make a fish hook out of a chicken bone and catch all sorts of stuff with it, so in my opinion, he didn’t need lucky charms to help him along, but he’d recite his ditzy catchphrase at least once every time we went out fishing together, so it was almost like a running joke for us. 

“Laugh it off, fellows, but everyone has some lucky trinket to depend on, ain’t that right Rabbit Foot?” Finnick Odair winked at me. 

I rolled my eyes at the silly man; he referred to me by one of three nicknames, _Rabbit Foot_ was perhaps my favorite, since it inferred Daddy let me tag along with him everywhere he went ‘cause _I_ was his lucky charm of choice. 

I slunk to the bed of Francine to help Daddy unload our equipment, but stopped on my tracks, gleefully eyeing the cooler Finnick just pulled out of his trunk. 

“You better have something good for me in that cooler, Mr. Finnick. You made Daddy and me wait an awful long time,” I drawled dramatically. 

“Is that so?” He smiled, mischievously. 

“We were bored to tears,” I sighed, “We almost melted right into our seats, too! Look it,” I called out, stretching my arms in his direction, “See?” I wiggled my fingers, “It’s the opposite to when I swim in the lake too long. My fingers are all smooth and melted from being in that hot truck,l. You owe me, sir.” 

Mr. Finnick held back a chuckle; instead, he narrowed his spectacular sea-green eyes at me, and tsked. “Well, darn it,” he quirked an eyebrow, “you used to be my favorite kid in town, but… it seems you’re turning back into your true form now,” he lamented. “Here you go, greedy, piranha, you!” He pulled a whole box of Twinkies from his cooler, and tossed it to me.

I caught the box midair, laughing merrily, tearing into it and pulling out a cellophane pack of the little cakes with much relish, only to stop abruptly, when two voices cried out at the same time.

“Finnick! Lily will freak out...” 

“Hunter, don’t let her eat that garbage!” 

_Eep!_

Daddy’s cry had been half hearted at best; but what I never expected— and almost fainted with the shock— was for Mr. Peeta to unfold awkwardly out of the passenger side of Finnick Odair’s car, like he had been fighting with his seatbelt for the last 2 minutes and finally won the battle; he also sounded eerily like my Mama. 

“How can you give her that stuff?!” Peeta demanded aghast, and I nearly dropped the Twinkie I’d just torn out of its wrapper, suddenly shy and mute. 

“Hey! Back off my treats, man!” Cried out Mr. Finnick, shaking a pointing finger in Peeta’s direction, “I’ll have you know that Twinkies are delectable, and one of the most trusted snacks by conspiracy theorists, for its projected longevity in the case of nuclear Armageddon.”

I was already embarrassed at being caught eating ‘garbage’… but nobody told me Twinkies were the favorite snack of the nuk-u-lar _armadillos_! I didn’t even know they existed! They sounded bad! 

“That ain’t an endorsement! A warning label, sure, similar to tobacco and the dangers of smoking, perhaps,”

I gasped! 

Granny E hated armadillos, they tore up her yard, and killed her rhubarb patch, and those were just the regular kind! But if the nuk-u-lar ones were as bad as tobacco, then they were definitely evil! 

Smoking made you sick, that’s what the policeman that spoke to us at school said!

Daddy sighed, “I’ve told y’all how Lily feels about feeding our kids junk before supper,”

I was so sorry I ate Twinkies! I would never do it again! 

“Lily worries too much…” Dismissed Mr. Finnick, fishing a Coca-Cola can out of his cooler and tossing it at me.

“Coke?!” Screeched Mr. Peeta in afront. “You’re giving her Coke to drink?!” 

Oh no! was soda also as bad as tobacco? 

“It isn’t lunch time yet.” Daddy whined. 

I felt like a bunny in a fox barbecue: everyone discussed whether to deep-fry me or grill me for dinner.

“And what’s wrong with Coke now?”

“Are you serious? It’s unhealthy, with chemicals and saturated sugars. It causes obesity,”

“Anything in excess can cause obesity!”

“They do say you can unclog pipes with it, and clean rust off nails and screws,” Daddy added, half amused. 

“You too?!” Mr. Finnick glared at Daddy. 

Daddy shrugged, “We’re in the Carolinas, Finn. We’re only like Pepsi here.” 

“Your body is your temple, doofus. Take care of it by staying away from overly sugary foods!” Retorted Mr. Peeta, haughtily. 

“Says the man who spent 15 minutes trying to decide what to bring from his folks’ _bakery_!” Finnick snorted in derision. 

Mr. Peeta raspberried at Mr. Finnick, “What do you know about sophistication? You eat gas station hot dogs! At least my apple and goat cheese tarts were freshly made and have some level of nutrition, with natural ingredients.”

Well, I couldn’t argue with that logic, I once saw an episode of _Futurama_ at Madge’s (behind Mama’s back), in which Fry ate an egg salad sandwich from a gas station, and he got **worms**! Gross!

Finnick turned to me, “Don’t listen to them, Piranha Girl. They're just jealous because we have what people call ‘high metabolism’, and we can eat whatever we want… and they can’t.” He said smugly. 

I giggled, momentarily forgetting my shyness. Finnick had a knack for making me laugh… always the same with that jokester!

“Dude! For real! I brought peach turnovers, blueberry muffins, and Miss K’s favorites...” Peeta sang, pulling a Mellark’s box from the car, “Cheese buns, anyone?”

I gasped. He had me there, _the fiend!_

“And what is she gonna drink with her buns, since you shut down soda?” Posed Finnick mockingly. 

“Water! Like a piranha.” Said Daddy with a chuckle. “Now, come on, guys, it’s getting late and hot. The fishes will get in deeper water soon,”

Daddy was right, it was too hot for any creature— human or fish— to linger too long in the scorching July heat. Yet, I couldn’t imagine being any other place in the world, regardless of the men bickering over snacks. 

We started towards the water, carrying folding chairs, tackle boxes, fishing rods, coolers and everything the men seemed fit to bring. After setting up camp, Daddy pulled me aside from the other two. 

“Catkin,” he said seriously, kneeling to my eye level, “this is Mr. Peeta’s first time fishing with us,” he said quietly, as if sharing some kind of secret nobody was supposed to know about, except, I was well aware Mr. Peeta’s presence was indeed unprecedented. 

I cranked my neck to look at Daddy all the same, I figured he wouldn’t be pointing out the obvious without a good reason. 

“He’s not very experienced with fishing or gathering like we are, but he needs inspiration to use in his trade, so Mr. Finnick and I decided to bring him out here, to see if we can help him somehow.”

“I’ll help too!” I said enthusiastically, just to second guess myself, “mmm, is he… gonna make fish cakes or sandwiches or something?” I asked, a little confused, because I had no idea how fishing in the lake could help a baker do his job. 

Daddy let out a full belly laugh, his eyes crinkled at the corners. My cheeks flamed, so I turned my face away from him, but he just shifted to squeeze me into a sideways hug, tight and loving. 

“You’re the cleverest girl in the whole wide world, Catkin!” He declared, kissing the top of my head. “I don’t think Mr. Peeta will be making fish cakes, and he definitely doesn’t need help making fish sandwiches,” I scowled, more confused than ever, “What he truly needs help with, is nature. To capture the beauty of God’s green Earth. Does that make sense?”

I thought about it for a second. Then nodded, coming to a swift decision, “I think so… but… couldn’t we have taken him somewhere… prettier?” I asked, giving our surroundings a grimace.

It was nature, alright. All wild and overgrown. There were mosquitos, spiders, nats, frogs, the occasional garden snake slithering in the taller grass, and worse of all: ticks! Just waiting to attack a person passing by for lack of deer and juicier animals. There were nicer, safer, bug and vermin free places in town. 

Daddy chuckled again. “Catkin, sometimes a person needs to be in the woods to appreciate raw, natural beauty. Just be patient, and you might be surprised how our friend discovers the real meaning of pretty.” 

“Okay, Daddy. If you think so.”

“I do. Come on, let’s join the others,” he stood up and reached a hand out to me, which I took readily. 

The morning passed by with Daddy and Mr. Finnick giving pointers to Mr. Peeta; every so often, Mr. Peeta would ask a question, sometimes it related to fishing, but mostly it was about flora and fauna and things he found interesting.

I was still bashful, which apparently didn’t sit quite right with Mr. Finnick, because after a while, he grabbed a couple of rods and beckoned me to follow him a few feet away, to a mushy area not quite suited to stand on. He looked at me every other second, as if studying me.

“Pass me the sinker next to the watermelon seed lures, please,” he asked in his purposeful tone.

I obeyed, and watched him work his magic, tying the sinker with a colorful lure to the end of his nylon and then casting the line as far as 25 feet into the water. He propped the handle between two large rocks, until it was steady and unmovable, and went for another rod. 

As he started making loops with the next string, he looked up towards Daddy; seeing he was busy showing Mr. Peeta the best way to unsnag a line from a branch by the edge of the water, Finnick turned his attention on me.

“Hey, Piranha Girl, everything alright, sweetling?” He asked, voice laced with concern.

I looked up from his hands, surprised by his tone. He smiled softly at me, but his eyes were sharp and inquisitive. 

“Yup!” I answered, casting my line like a professional fisherwoman. “Why’d you ask? You worried I won’t eat the box of Twinkies as soon as Mr. Peeta goes home? ‘Cause I’m gonna do just that!” I smirked at him, happily. 

He laughed quietly at that, his eyes softened. “Ah! There’s my cheeky heathen.” 

I looked over at the other two, they were attaching a new hook to Peeta’s line… I was 99% sure Daddy had to cut the string after all. 

“Mmm… don’t tell Mr. Peeta I said I was still gonna eat the Twinkies.” I looked at Finnick nervously, “I don’t want him to think ill of me,” It came out kind of pathetic, but Mr. Finnick’s face turned serious and his eyes went back to sharp and a little narrowed. 

“Does Mr. Peeta being around bother you, Katniss?” He asked lowly, almost secretly, his eyes shifted between both of mine, “you can tell me if you feel uncomfortable with him around, I can take him home, so you can fish with your dad alone.” He said in a gentle but assertive tone, and I knew he meant business, because he very seldom used my given name. 

My eyes went wide as saucers. “No!” I gasped. “I don’t want y’all to leave! I just… well… I get tongue tied, and clumsy. But I like y’all around!” I told him I’m an almost frantic whisper. “Please don’t go! I’m supposed to show Mr. Peeta how pretty the lake is!” I whined. 

Mr. Finnick cocked his head, and gave me a quizzical look for a little while, but then he just relented, and looked back at Daddy and Peeta— line already back to rights— and something passed over his face... it took me years to realize it was ‘relief’. 

“Alright, Little Critter, but you promise me, if anything bothers you, or if you feel funny about something, you let me know, okay? And not just about right now, or Mr. Peeta, but any time and anyone,” he arched his eyebrows at me, expectantly, at the same time raising his fist with his pinky held out to me. “Promise, Katniss,” he stressed.

I nodded, winding my own pinky with his, “Cross my heart, hope to die,” I whispered solemnly. 

He let go of my pinky and we both made an X over our hearts, sealing the promise.

“Okay,” He said, looking more like his usual self, “So your father told you we’re trying to get Peeta to fall in love with nature, here?”

My cheeks burned crimson with that description of our task at the lake. The thought of Peeta Mellark falling in love with anything, was positively embarrassing to me. 

I nodded in response. “Daddy said we’re gonna help him get inspiration to help him or something.” 

“Yeah, we are! And since that’s the third line he’s snapped in the last half hour, I think we should go rescue him, before Hunter wrings his neck with the string.” Daddy did look a tad out of sorts. “I think that was your dad’s favorite lure, Peeta just lost,”

After a short negotiation, Daddy and Finnick switched places, going to enjoy a blueberry muffin. Daddy needed a break to cool down; he’d just lose his $60 minnow replica lure… it seemed, after all, Daddy too had a lucky charm in his tackle box. 

I didn’t want Mr. Peeta to feel bad about Daddy’s grumpiness, so I swallowed up my shyness and came to ask him if he wanted to see my favorite wild flowers. To my delight, he seemed happy to put down his rod and followed me towards a cluster of dandelions. I showed him a few flowers: Wild Carrots, Rose Milkweed, Black-eyed Susans, and Cattails; I even pointed out random facts about the plants, interspersed with little commentary from Daddy. 

I talked to Mr. Peeta about hunting, and bird calling; I told him about cooking on an open fire after a day of fishing, gathering and hunting, only with stuff we found in the wild.

He seemed to hang on to my every word, and for the duration, I felt like a grown, intelligent lady, wooing a handsome gentleman with my vast knowledge of everything wild. 

By noon, I was teaching the men how to weave flower crowns, and Mr. Peeta had drawn a few sketches of birds, bugs, and plants in a tiny booklet he pulled out of his back pocket. Sometimes he’d asked me to pick a bloom he was dissatisfied with his drawings of, to press in his little book, “to study later,” he’d said, winking at me.

Then, Daddy grabbed my attention, “Catkin, you forgot to show Mr. Peeta a very important flower,” he smiled.

I looked around, wondering what could I possibly missed?

“As long as you find yourself, you’ll never go hungry, baby girl.” Daddy hinted, grinning.

“Oh!” I turned around, wide-eyed. 

Sure enough, maybe ten feet from our spot, growing out of a few inches of water, I saw the long shoot ending on a wide, arrowhead leaf. 

Of course I had to show Peeta my namesake flower! I couldn’t very well marry a man who’s never seen a katniss plant, let alone pick it out from the catnip, cattails and catkins of the swamp.

How could I’ve forgotten, myself?! 

I glanced up at Mr. Peeta, “Did you know katniss roots are edible? They go extra well with fresh fried fish, like potatoes. And the flowers make some beautiful jewels for flower crowns. Wanna see?” 

I extended my open hand in invitation. 

Peeta’s face split into the brightest smile I’ve ever seen. He took my hand, making me giggle, “I’d love to, ma’am. Lead the way.” 

  
  
  


* * *

* * *

  
  
  


_“My mother was bitching about me wasting fondant one day...”_ Mr. Peeta said frowning, “this was before my trip to Paris, and I was feeling down, so your father invited me to go fishing with you both.”

”I vaguely remember that,” I said, gulping a large swallow of hot chocolate. “Mr. Finnick was there... you were bickering about sodas and saturated sugar, I think.”   
  


He chuffed a laugh, shaking his head ruefully. “You remember that?”   
  


Well, really, I remembered anything that had to do with him, but I wasn’t about to say that, was I? 

“Well, you and your dad showed me a great deal of flowers and plants that day, and thanks to you both I found that katniss flowers were delicate and small enough, I could make handfuls of the blooms with the unused fondant, and my mother would see nothing was going to waste.“ He said, staring out into the distance at nothing. “In a way, both you and your father gave me a gift, that day in the lake.” 

My eyes popped, astonished at his story. Like an idiot, I pushed the rest of my cheese bun into my already full mouth, and chewed slowly, my attention riveted to the baker, for fear I’d lose even one speck of his tale if I looked away.

I swallowed the huge wad of bread in my mouth, painfully, and without blinking, I rasped, “You practiced making katniss flowers out of leftover fondant?” 

But of course, his face morphed into an expression of horror at my question. 

I stuffed an entire cheese bun into my mouth, deciding it was safer to keep it full of food, no matter if I looked like an alarmed chipmunk, with my cheeks full to bursting, and my eyes wide as saucers. It was better to look ridiculous, than to sound ridiculous. 

”When you put it that way…” he trailed off, chuckling awkwardly, “it sounds kind of… douche-y,” he rubbed at the back of his neck, in what I’d started to associate with discomfort on his part. 

“No, no!” I rushed to assure him, spitting half chewed bread everywhere. 

Lordy! Could I be any more awkward and gross?! 

I tried swallowing the ball of cheese bun in my mouth, burning down my throat, making my eyes watered and blink two hundred times a second; I tried talking again, just to choke up and started coughing like an 80 year old man with black lung disease. 

Mr. Peeta was out of his chair in a second, clapping my back and nervously asking me if I needed water or air… the whole time, I just wished for a paper bag big enough to cover my face with, or an early grave, whatever came first. 

After a long moment, where I finally regained composure and control of my breathing, I dabbed the corners of my eyes with a napkin, as daintily as possible, to save some face. I cleared my throat— thrice— before speaking my peace. 

“I’m sorry… that was embarrassing,” I said candidly, yet, as soon as he started to open his mouth to counter it, I lifted a stopping hand. “I didn’t mean to imply your sugar flowers were somehow... lesser? Or that I was offended you made them from leftover material. I’m not sure if that makes sense,” My thoughts scattered. “I’m sorry I’m all over the place with this, it’s hard to explain what I’m thinking, but you can be sure, all my thoughts are full of admiration and respect. Your work is flawless!”

_Aaaaargh! Stop talking! Now!_

_Really?_ Admiration and respect?! Your work is flawless?! _Why, I just may as well confess my undying love for him, to drive the humiliation home!_

“I… I appreciate you saying that.” He mumbled bashfully. “I can assure you, that while the katnisses are simple, small, and easy to build, I think them to be quite pretty and elegant.”

Cue in a raging blush!

“I never stopped making them, even in Paris. Heck, I could make hundreds of them in my sleep by now, although this is the first time I’ve put them in cakes,“ he motioned a hand to the display case with the Katniss cakes. 

_What does he do with all those sugar katnisses?_ I wondered.

I wrinkled my nose, thinking about it. 

_Wait, did I eat ten year old sugar katnisses last night?_

Mr. Peeta laughed. “No... you didn’t eat ten year old sugar flowers last night. Those,” he pointed at the case again, “are freshly made, exclusively for you… or for your boyfriend, technically.” He stifled a smile. 

I covered my eyes, as if that way he wouldn’t be able to see my embarrassment. 

I couldn’t believe I said that out loud.

“Well, you’d be glad to know Gale was very pleased with your work. And to be honest, I liked the tiny piece of cupcake I got to taste, better than the roses he sent.” I commented unthinkingly.

Mr. Peeta’s confused expression made my cheeks heat up even more. “Nevermind that,” I said, waving my hand dismissively. “The cupcake was tasty. Thank you.” 

He was still looking at me like a puzzle, but said nothing for a while, so we sat there, sipping on hot chocolate for a bit. 

”You’re forgiven, by the way.” I offered, my cup halfway to my lips, my eyes fleeted away from his before I elaborated. “For the mishap in the parking lot, I mean.” 

There! It was done, then.

“Thanks,” he offered quietly, grateful. “I’m sorry for coming across as a creep every time we interact with each other. I swear I’m not this… _weird_.” He grimaced. 

I shrugged. “It’s okay. I don’t think you’re a creep.”

He chuckled mirthlessly. “Miss K, I was inappropriate at Maysilee’s earlier today... believe me, when you’re my age, looking back on that conversation… you may think differently. I just hope you believe I sincerely feel gratitude to your folks, to Hunter particularly, for helping me in a time of deep confusion and ambivalence. I found inspiration thanks to you both.” 

His face took a somber emotion I couldn’t quite understand. 

“I showed you the Katniss plants in the water that day. We made flower crowns too. Mr. Finnick kept messing his crown up and then gave up altogether?” 

“That’s right,” Peeta said, not quite smiling, but less somber. “That whole experience helped me come to a very important decision. Ever since then, I’ve linked you three with everything that’s good about nature. I know it sounds weird, it is extremely bizarre saying it aloud, but I have no other way to describe it accurately, what being there meant for me back then. I’ve never properly thanked any of you for letting me tag along.”

“Well… if you’re looking to repay the favor, I’m sure daddy would love free coffee for life, and Mr. Finnick…” I had to stop and laugh a little, “Mr. Finnick will probably like free Twinkies, you just have to make them taste like the Hostess brand ones.” 

“Gosh…” Peeta shook his head and let it drop in defeat, “I forgot about the darned Twinkies! Thanks for that.” 

“No problem.” I said wiping off the corner of my mouth with a napkin. “Well… I should be going. It’s been about twenty minutes after my shift ended, and I’m sure Mama is monitoring my arrival times now that I’m grounded,”

_Geez Louise! Was there no filter button on what came out of my mouth???_

“Grounded?!” Mr. Peeta arched a surprised eyebrow. 

I huffed a small, embarrassed chuckle. “Yeah… I told you earlier at the candy store I got in trouble with Mama. Basically, I told her I rather be a carnie than marry young, like she did.” I covered my face with both hands. 

“Hmm,”

I peeked an eye between my fingers at his noncommittal hum.

Mr. Peeta just took a sip from his cup and lowered back to the table, looking unfazed. 

He cleared his throat, “Do carnies get to go on rides free? Or do they have to pay tickets out of their checks?” His face was slightly pinched, his blue eyes stared intently at the table top, as if pondering his own questions seriously. 

“I have no idea, but if I become one, I’ll let you. Maybe even let you use my employee discount?” 

Still not looking at me, he made a face, positively considering my offer, “Yeah… carnival rides are getting wildly expensive. $3 for one ticket?!” He finally lifted his gaze to mine, blinking, merrily. 

“And some rides cost up to five tickets, last time I went to one!” I added, sensing his amusement. 

“Well, while I’ve never considered joining a circus or a carnival, I did consider running away at one point in my teens…” I gasped, “in the end, my big brother made me realize I would be okay if I stayed put; other kids had it worse than me, and they’d manage to overcome whatever bad situation they were facing. 

“Now, in your case, marriage can be good. Very good! But not all of us find their soulmate in high school. Your parents were lucky to find each other so early in their life, but that’s rare in my opinion, so I can understand your position if you’re unsure about marriage so young. You and Gale both have time to decide if you’re headed that way or not.”

He paused for a second, “I know you didn’t ask for my advice, but I’m getting to that age, where I feel like lecturing everyone whether they want to hear me or not,” I giggled quietly. His tone was warm, soft, “Cut your folks some slack. They’re good people... _hopeless romantics_ the pair of them, but they mean well.”

I nodded mutedly, running my fingernail down the seam of my bag’s strap. “I know,” I whispered. 

“Good!” He breathed out, and stood up, effectively ending our conversation. “Will you take at least one of the cakes home with you? Gale wouldn’t take them for free, but… I made them for your birthday, they’re really not for sale to the public.” 

Well, _that was unexpected!_

“What will you do if I don’t take them?” I asked curiously.

“Probably donate them to a shelter. Toss them out, if I don’t get ‘em out of the display case by tomorrow.” He made a disgusted face, “I hate giving away stale food. There’s no charity or good will in giving needy people food you wouldn’t eat yourself.” 

“Oh…” I chewed the inside of my cheek, thinking about it. I didn’t get an actual birthday cake the day before, and my meager cupcake I split with my family… but Mr. Peeta could feed a bunch of people if he donated it to a shelter. It wasn’t a hard decision in the end. 

“I’ll take the small cake, you can donate the rest on my behalf.” I smiled up at him. 

“I can do that.” He said, smiling back. 

I was thanking him, rushing out the door trying not to topple over my new cake box, when Peeta called my name.

“Katniss…”

I stopped, one foot already on the sidewalk, and twisted around to face him. 

”Can I ask a favor?” He asked, insistently.

I looked him in the eyes, then croaked, “Yes,” 

“Don’t grow up too fast? Enjoy being seventeen as much as you can. Life rushes at you after high school, and I would hated for you to missed on being a kid for as long as you can.”

I stared at him for a long minute. His smile cracked a little. I nodded curtly and went home, intent on making him proud somehow. 

  
  


* * *

  
  


4th of July in Panem was always a doozy, with its parade, neighborhood barbecues, music blaring all around, slip ‘n slides set up at every green lawn with a slight slope as far as the eye could see. It was a chore putting up with the baking-summer sun, and humidity making clothing stick to one's sweaty skin, but everybody braved the scorching temperatures, just for a slice of good ol’ American festive energy. 

I loved it! Everything about the 4th of July was great!

It was a colorful holiday without match; we still had mosquitos, and you could hear the sporadic growling of a dude, cussing out the flies buzzing around the meats they were prepping to grill… it never failed to bring a smile to my face, thinking of my beloved Grandma E’s wisdom: “That’s what Citronella is for, boys,” I muttered under my breath. Grandma would shout the same words every time a guy complained about the bugs. 

I wasn’t sure if the stuff was as effective in plant form, as it was in spray, but Daddy had clusters of the bush everywhere in the yard; it smelled straight up as mosquito repellent. 

“Here!” Gale shoved a perspiring cup of cold lemonade under my nose as soon as he reached me. 

“Thanks!” I mumbled, taking his offering gratefully. “I need that.”

“No kidding. It’s hotter than asphalt at the Walmart parking lot in the peak of August.” He said, scanning the street with keen, gray eyes. 

The whole neighborhood conveyed at the cul-de-sac near his house for games and barbecuing. I vaguely wondered how some of the grills got transported there? I counted 8 of them so far, but not all of them had wheels. All the grills rigged up to cook different stuff: hotdogs, burgers, sausages, chicken strips, and a dedicated one for vegetarian fare, such as burger patties, veggie-kebabs, and corn on the cob. 

There were folding tables all along the sidewalks, loaded with salads, chips, desserts, and paper goods to eat with; coolers and buckets with ice over canned or bottled drinks sat on the ground every few feet all along the road, and children of all ages ran around, shouting with glee, soaked to their bones from sprinklers and running hoses on the side opposite the food. 

“It ain’t that bad,” I said sipping my lemonade. “Not as bad as this morning anyway. I swear it was like 110 degrees during the parade.” 

It was true too, by the time the Firefighters rolled in with the sirens of their trucks blaring loudly, people were calling for them to hose them down instead of tossing candy and whatever other prizes they had for the masses. 

Gale grunted. “Posy was very crossed when she noticed her parade candy was melting together. Ma had a hard time convincing her, she couldn’t call the floats back to throw new candy for her to pick.”

I gave an amused snort. “Poor Posy.” 

Gale took a big breath. “You already eaten?” He asked, moving on.

“Yeah, Ms. Mags’ chilli-slaw dogs are on point this year! You?” I glanced up at him, “eaten yet?”

He nodded, but didn’t expand. He took my hand and tugged, “Come on. I asked your father if I could take you to Dalton’s farm to watch the fireworks, just the two of us. We gotta get going before the good places get taken though.” 

“Oh… okay. Let me grab—“

“Francine‘s all packed up. I even have a tiki-torch thing and everythin’.” He dangled my truck’s keys from his finger in front of me.

I reached for my keys without a word and turned on my heels, walking slowly towards my house, keeping an eye out for my family. I saw Prim laughing and chatting with Rue and Rory, but she was too engrossed in her conversation to pay me any mind; then, I saw Mama, animatedly talking to Mr. Abernathy, which surprised me, because the guy was a reclusive grump who lived in the swanky side of town, all on his lonesome. 

I wondered what was it about men living in mansions by themselves? Old, decrepit Mr. Snow lived alone in the biggest house in Panem… I shook myself of memories of the Snow estate when I spotted Mr. Abernathy’s always present silver flask; he drank out of it no matter the occasion or place. _What a weirdo!_

Mr. Abernathy seemed to only be cordial to my folks, though… it still didn’t explain why in the world he was in my neighborhood, surrounded by all the people he clearly disliked, at the busiest block party of the year? 

I shrugged it off, and waved at my mother, quickly letting her know I was heading out. She smiled indulgently at Gale and told us to “Have fun! Be careful driving back home.” 

Once we arrived at Dalton’s, I had to bite my tongue, let’s I started a row with Gale for rushing me out there for no good reason. We were one in maybe 10– at the most— other trucks spread along the wire-fenced pastures of mr. Dalton’s land. There was plenty of space for viewing fireworks!

Normally, townsfolk would crowd the sole shopping center in town, where Walmart, Target and the only Bed,Bath & Beyond in the county operated; to say the parking lot there got packed to the gills every year for the 4th of July fireworks, was an understatement. So, people got creative; there were places, just outside city limits, one could view the spectacle of lights comfortably from... none as prime as Dalton’s though. You could actually hear the detonations from there, and the fact it was a milking farm, meant limited lights and power lines obstructing the sky. 

The place was peaceful too, with twinkling stars already peeking on the darkening beyond. There wasn’t a cow in sight, mooing or otherwise roaming; I briefly wondered if Mr. Dalton put them away, afraid they’d spook with all the booms and crackles. It was a well known fact that dogs and cats spooked something awful with fireworks, it stood to reason all animals did as well… but even with the absence of cattle, the air still smelled like manure. 

After a while, those big, greenish, flies— common around livestock— started zipping above our heads… I guess we were the largest creatures in the vicinity, so they came to pester us in the cows’ stead. 

It was fine, really. Gale had this place in mind when he packed up Francine, and it showed when he laid out a couple of comforters on the bed of the truck, and made a mound of pillows I recognized from his living room; we had a small cooler with cold soda cans, even a half dozen hotdogs wrapped in foil he swiped from block party, but the thing I was truly grateful for, was the tabletop tiki torch he had the wherewithal to bring along; it kept most bugs away with its disgusting fumes, and if you could get past the fact the flame was a bit too big, it felt like we were having a candlelit picnic, out in the country. 

Despite the summer heat, laying out on my truck under the twilight sky was just priceless... manure scent and all. 

We ate and drank our contraband food, waiting for the fireworks to start back in town, meanwhile another handful of cars arrived, but everyone kept their distance, not wanting to intrude in anyone else’s privacy, which was fine with me. 

I was beyond relaxed, lounging on the marginally padded comforters, listening to the crickets chirp along with the croaking frogs, so when Gale started rubbing my back, I scooted closer; when he kissed my shoulder, I leaned into him, let him hold me close to his chest. We didn’t really talk all that much, just sat together in companionable silence. It was nice. Comfortable.

I think it was the very first time we ever cuddled, and honestly, I felt content we were finally acting like a real couple, instead of kissing best friends. I was giddy with the idea, so I pecked his cheek and twined our fingers together; the action seemed to flip some invisible switch on in Gale, because at the first burst of pyrotechnics lighting the sky, he cupped my cheek and kissed me, deep and slow. 

The longer the explosions went off overhead, the more passionate our embrace became. He pulled my chin downwards with the pad of his thumb, and my lips parted, Gale’s tongue slipped into my mouth. I lost track of time, along with any sense or awareness of my limbs. The kiss went on and on, with the addition of teeth nipping on lips parting lips, and fingers smoothing down exposed skin. Before I knew it, half of Gale’s body covered my torso, my neck cradled in one of his hands, my waist gripped in his other, and my fingers clamped around his biceps. 

I hadn’t noticed how laborious my breath was until Gale shifted, and his mouth left mine to drop kisses along my jaw and neck. I felt dizzy, mindless, with all the new sensations I was experiencing. I started panting, like there wasn’t enough oxygen in my lungs, and then I felt Gale’s warm, callous hand glide up my rib cage, under the lose white, red and blue t-shirt I wore for the occasion... it would’ve been fine, but the pad of his thumb made a broad, heavy swipe over my bra-covered breast without any kind of warning, and that was that!

My breath hitched; Gale squeezed my boob, and I tried to shy away, but a frenzy took over his ministrations, making me feel like time had sped up and I couldn’t catch up with it, no matter how hard I tried.

Gale slid a knee between mine, parted my thighs with his, and flopped right between my legs. The movement jarred me completely out of the moment, and panic exploded in my chest, spilling like lava over an active volcano.

_Wait!_ My head screamed.

Gale bucked his hips against mine and my mind came back into sharp focus.

_The heck!?! Does he mean to deflower me here, in a field full of cow droppings?_

“Gale...” I gasped, pawing at his chest weakly, trying to push him away. 

He didn’t budge.

“Mmmm…” Gale moaned quietly into my neck, nuzzling his nose under my ear while mouthing at my collarbone like a piglet on a sow. 

_Na-uh!_

I wasn’t having my first time on the side of a dirt road, smelling manure and batting away gigantic, green flies with my hands!

“Gale!” That time my call was more forceful; I put my whole weight behind my arm and gave him a big shove. 

“What… what’s wrong, Catnip?” He asked dazedly. His eyes were glassy and unfocused. 

_What do you mean_ “what’s wrong”, _you jerk?!_

Everything was quiet around us, except for a few crickets chirping. 

_When did the fireworks stop?_ I wondered, my mood soured immediately. 

_Where did everyone else go?_ When _did everyone go?_

We were the only ones still there, which meant it had to be a good while since the show ended, without us realizing it. 

I gave him another push to drive home the hint I wanted him off me, and pulled my legs from under his body as soon as he gave me an inch; I sat up straight, giving myself some much needed room to breathe. Relief flooded me at once. 

Gale blinked. His gaze centered on me fully, suddenly concerned, while lifting away from me. “D-did I... did I hurt you?” He stuttered, nervously.

“No,” I huffed. “But we were going a tad too fast for my comfort.” I said, rubbing stiffness off my neck and whatever part of my shoulder blades I could reach. 

“Right,” he said, dropping on his rump, deflated. “Sorry. I thought… you were into it. You were making all those sweet noises… the whole thing just went straight to my...” he made a vague gesture to his crotch, “head.” His tone was sheepish, embarrassed.

“Dear Lord, Gale! What the heck is wrong with you?!” I snapped angrily, averting my eyes, trying to ignore the telling tent on his jeans. _Ugh!_

“I’m so sorry, Catnip. I keep forgetting you’re new to this.” He said grimacing, “I should’ve asked before humping you like that. I know better. It won’t happen again.” He promised solemnly. 

“I know.” I sighed. 

_It better not happen again, or you’ll be very sorry… and in pain!_

“I really am, truly sorry, Catnip.”

“It’s… I…” I stopped to think what I wanted to say, because ‘ _It's okay_ ’ just didn’t seem like the right response, I didn’t wanna sound like I accepted such behavior as _okay_ , although I knew he was sincere about his apology and promise... so, I relented. “I’m not ready to go that far, yet. But… I liked kissing. A lot. I just need… more time. For the rest.” 

“That’s… that’s absolutely alright, Catnip. We won’t do anything you’re not okay with.” 

I nodded, still avoiding looking at him. 

“Okay.”

“Okay!”

We sat there mutely, not looking at one another.

“I’m enlisting sometime in the next three weeks.” Gale said after a long and awkward silence. 

“What?” My head snapped up to his. 

“I talked it over with Ma,” he said. He took a deep breath. “We haven’t told anyone anything yet, but… Ma served Pa with divorce papers last time he came over.”

I gasped. Mr. Hawthorne last came around my birthday, back in May. 

It was no secret the Hawthorne's marriage wasn’t the most harmonious around, heck, most people thought it was only a matter of time before they called it quits, yet, there weren’t many people divorcing in Panem. 

People would stick together for as long as they could if they had children, but in the Hawthornes case, they’d been on their last legs for years now. I doubted their split would surprise anyone, but I could guarantee a whole host of gossip would spread from it nonetheless. 

“There’s no point dragging it out longer,” he shrugged, “Posy doesn’t even know him…” he shook his head, flustered. 

“I know,” I told him, quietly, scooting closer to squeeze his arm in solidarity. “You and Hazelle have done well by Posy though,” I said softly. 

It was the wrong thing to say.

Gale jumped out of the truck suddenly, and covered his face with both hands. 

“That ain’t fair!” He raged, kicking at the gravel. “My little sister has the right to have a father! A man who loves her, and treats her like a princess, and protects her, and cares for her needs and—“

“And she has it!” I countered, climbing off the truck myself, standing in front of him with my hands on my hips. 

I was suddenly aware it was pitch dark out, and we were the only people there, illuminated only by the waning flame of a tiki torch; it wasn’t safe for us, to linger on the side of the dark road like a pair of desperados on the run. 

“You are that man, Gale, and you’re enough for her. So… screw your old man! His loss, the way I see it. Posy didn’t miss anything by his absence, because she had you, and you are a great daddy.” 

I caressed his face, trying to infuse as much affection as I could into the touch. “You are all Posy, Vick and Rory, need. Don’t you dare say I’m wrong, Gale Hawthorne, or imma have to punch some sense into you.” My voice was too soft and tender for my threat to be effective, and the kiss on his jaw that followed, didn’t help matters one lick, but Gale finally hunched over, wrapping me in his arms.

He buried his face in my hair, and whispered a phrase I was hilariously unprepared to hear at that point. 

“I love you, Katniss.” 

_Sh*t!_

What was I supposed to say to that?!

It didn’t matter in the end. Gale started kissing me again as if he didn’t need a response, and I was only too happy not having to answer immediately, so I circled my arms around his neck real quick, and sank into the kiss, gratefully. 

I didn’t let the embrace deepen, though. 

“We better go before Mr. Dalton comes out after us with his rifle.” I said, breaking the kiss, gently. 

“Why would he do that? We ain’t doing anything,” Gale whined, petulantly, gripping my waist tightly in his hands. 

“It’s the middle of the night, is darker than Tanratino’s humor, and we have no good reason to be out here in boondocks, unless we’re cattle rustlers or somethin’.” I said, dryly, stepping away from him, and heading back to the truck bed.

“Your imagination is a bit too wild, you know?” He observed, irritably, but he came to help clean up our ‘picnic’ nonetheless.

I shrugged and ignored him. I got into the driver’s seat and turned the key in the ignition, while Gale blew out the tiki torch and stuffed the bundled up bedding we used on the bench, between us. 

“Is that the time?” I screeched as soon as the clock on the dashboard blinked on. “We gotta go, now!” 

“‘Kay, let me—” 

Gale’s butt barely touched the cushion of his seat, when I revved up, and sped full throttle out of there, leaving a cloud of dirt behind us. 

“Gah-lee, Katniss!” Gale cried out, broodier than ever. “You’re gonna break Francine one of these days.”

“Dude, I just got out of being grounded for a month! I ain’t going back!” I snapped, “Plus, my ride is sturdy and trustworthy.” I kissed the three middle fingers of my hand, and slapped them on the dashboard with a sly smile, “ain’t that the truth, girl?” 

Francine responded by kicking up gravel, and gripping the next curve like a champ. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for bruising everyone’s sensitive Everlark hearts with the Galeniss in this chapter. Everlark is endgame, but I did promise slow burn and no underage, so… one more chapter before Peeta gets the shock of his life 😱
> 
> Little Debbie is a brand of packaged cakes and desserts. Twinkies on the other hand, are snack cakes filled with cream, manufactured by Hostess Brands; in 2012, Hostess halted production of all their desserts due to bankruptcy proceedings; the cakes returned to shelves ten months later, in 2013. There’s a popular myth saying that Twinkies and cockroaches will be the only things unaffected in a nuclear disaster; in reality, Twinkies only have a life-shelf of 3-4 weeks (at most), I don’t know where Finnick is getting his facts from!
> 
> Coke or Pepsi: both carbonated beverages, and perhaps the most popular soda drinks in the world. Coca-Cola was invented in 1886 by pharmacist J.S. Pemberton in Columbus, Georgia-USA. Named after its two main ingredients: Coca leaves and Kola nuts, originally it was supposed to be a cure for headaches, but after changing hands and promotional stunts, it’s become a multidollar company, based in Atlanta, Georgia-USA. 
> 
> PepsiCo, was introduced as “Brad’s Drink” in 1893 by pharmacists Caleb Bradham in New Bern, North Carolina-USA. It’s primary use was for ease digestion, for which reason it got renamed Pepsi-Cola (Pepsis being the Greek word for digestion, and cola= Kola nuts). Pepsi had also gone through numerous changes in branding over the years, but is widely known for being promoted by all kinds of celebrities. Seeing as in this universe Panem is located in North Carolina, Mr. Everdeen is a Pepsi Man through and through… Finnick on the other hand is from elsewhere so he feels no allegiance to any specific drink, and Peeta… he’s a jock, I’m not sure what he eats, yet. 
> 
> _Futurama_ is an American adult animated sitcoms, by the creators of The Simpsons. The humor is more crude, and it follows the adventures of Phillip J Fry, who was frozen for 1000 years, and woke up in a whacky future where space travel and alien life are common happenings. 
> 
> Citronella is a plant, used as the base for most mosquito repellents. The stuff smells like mosquito spray, no kidding. They also make the oil to burn in the Tiki Torches with mosquito repellent… if you ever come to the US South, you’ll become very familiar with them. 
> 
> 4th of July, is Independence Day in the USA. I based much of the celebration Katniss narrates on my own neighborhood. 
> 
> Okay, there will be a big time jump in the next chapter, and Katniss will turn 18. Peeta won’t go after her just yet, but it’s coming! I’m just glad she’s not stuck in the same summer anymore! 
> 
> Thank you for sticking with me. This story is nearing its end, and I’ll try to finish up the rest of my WiPs 🥳
> 
> Note to my French readers: I need your help mes amis. PM on tumblr?


	6. “S'il vous plaît... dessine-moi un mouton!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title of this chapter (“Please... draw me a sheep!”) comes from the novel “Le Petit Prince” by Saint-Exupéry.
> 
>  **Warning** : Galeniss— M rated Galeniss! Please don’t yell at me! It’s the last bit of romantic Galeniss in this story, I promise!

Gale and I spent as much time together as we could in the weeks following 4th of July; with my full schedule at school, a part time job and archery club, and his own full time job, family and buddies from work it was a tight fit, but we managed it. Things between us had heated up considerably since the evening at Mr. Dalton’s, and I was very curious, exploring that new— physical— aspect of our relationship.

It was nice for the most part, discovering things and sensations with a guy I trusted and felt safe with. Gale wasn’t a jerk, or impatient about my pace, usually... sometimes, though, he’d just got a little bit _bolder_ ’ than usual...

A smidge _pushier_ … sort of.

Definitely more _vocal_ about his wants. He constantly hinted at his expectations for the future, and how awesome it would be to ‘experience’ things together… if I wanted to, of course. He’d never forced me to do anything I wasn’t 100% on board with, and I still wasn’t a hundred percent ready to go all the way, but we were sweethearts, and we made-out a lot!

And the more we made-out, the less I minded his seeking fingers. One day, the weight of his calloused hand on my chest, under my shirt, was actually welcomed and even encouraged.

I knew the next step was inevitable. Just a matter of time, really. Like the erosion of dripping water on a rock, my reservations would wane away; Gale’s advances would eventually wear me down, and I’d give into my own hormonal curiosity.

And why shouldn't I? I was a living creature. Warm blood ran through my veins; and wasn’t sex, ultimately, were all mature relationships went?

I trusted Gale with my life. So thinking that I should— would— give in to the itch any moment, I had Mama take me to the doctor, to get me on the pill.

To say the whole doctor’s appointment, with my mother’s eyes wide as saucers staring between me and the physician, was bizarre and extremely uncomfortable, would be an understatement. Thank heavens for small mercies, Mama kept her mouth shut the whole visit, and even while picking up the prescription from CVS she remained stoic and silent.

Some part of me rejoiced at her discomfort, as if I was somehow punishing her for setting me up on that original date without my input, by having her personally pay for my birth control with her debit card.

When we pulled into the garage, I expected her to run to Daddy as soon as we got home, to tell him all about the pills. Then I would have to face them both for an intrusive edition of ‘ _the talk_ ’. My parents had taken the annoying M.O. of backing each other up in a lame team of _bad cop/bad cop_ when it came to disciplinary incidents. But Mama didn’t run and tattled; she just sat in the car after turning it off, face blank and eyes unfocused.

She held up the white baggie with the rattling bottle inside to me, and proceeded to explain in a very clinical voice, the importance of taking the medicine habitually, and that it would be best to set up alarms or reminders for the first few months, until I had a schedule down without skipping doses. She stressed the fact that taking other medicines in combination with _the pill_ could make it go funky or completely ineffective, so it was important to always have a back-up plan, and be mindful of meds at all times.

“Thank you, Mama,” I said softly.

She smiled awkwardly back at me. “Don’t mention it. I’m just glad you are doing the responsible thing, Katniss.” She said with a little more warmth in her voice, if a little shakily.

I sighed deeply. “I’m not…” _Ugh! Why was I so embarrassed?_ “having sex.” I said curtly, my eyes shifted quickly from side to side, making sure we were still alone. “Yet.” I added, firmly.

Mama took a shaky breath in. “You’re my smart girl, Sweetie. I’m so—“

I opened the car door before she could complete her thought, and ran into the house, with the words “proud of you,” ringing in my ears, while subconsciously rejecting her pride... I couldn’t quite understand why, but her words and support made me angry, when it should’ve filled me with relief.

Being a moody teenager, sucked!

* * *

“Mornin’ Miss K!” Mr. Peeta called from his sensible, nondescript sedan, two spaces down from Francine.

I waved a frazzled hello, shoving my keys as deep into my bag as I could.

“Morning, Mr. Peeta! How was California?” I called to him in response, completely missing the slight pinching of his features at the mention of California.

His wife moving out there on her own, and what that meant for him and the bakery had been the hot topic of the town for a solid week back in July, but then, news of Gale’s parents’s divorce eclipsed every other piece of gossip, to the point people seemed to forget Peeta was even married to begin with.

The Hawthorne’s on the other hand, were still ducking awkward questions and prying comments from ‘well intentioned’ neighbors, trying to ‘be helpful’.

“California was alright. Traffic is always a killer out there. Very breezy and sunny, though.” He said with a soft smile, as if he’d truly enjoyed his constant trips across the country... even I, with my mildly stalkerish ways, couldn't keep up with his comings and goings. “How’s school?” He asked, quickly pulling his bakery uniform from the back seat of his car.

“Ugh! So busy! I can’t wait for Senior year. At least I’m all set with credits for a Science diploma.”

“Wow! That’s amazing! Well done!” He said, impressed. “Have you started looking at colleges yet?”

“Yes. But now Gale wants me to consider getting an associate's degree,” I rolled my eyes, “Somethin’ quick and local, you know?”

I didn’t miss the sour frown on Peeta’s face that time, nor the way he shoved his arms into the sleeves of his chef’s jacket, rather aggressively.

“What does Hunter have to say about that?” He practically demanded.

I shrugged. “Nothing yet. I’ll talk about it with my parents once I’ve got a better idea of what I want,” _plus, they hadn’t asked anything either, so why bring it up?_

Of course, I didn’t say that part aloud.

“Well… Miss K, you shouldn’t be too hasty deciding on your education without sharing your thoughts with your folks. Your father is the cleverest man I know, and he loves you and miss Prim more than anything in the world. He’d guide and support you, no matter what you chose to do.”

Cursed those manners Mama was so keen on smashing into me!

I should’ve told Mr. Peeta to mind his own beeswax, but instead, I nodded slowly and smiled faintly.

“Thank you for the advice.” _Mansplaining, actually._ “It’s good food for thought,” [enter GIF of a fading southern belle, falling dramatically on a Victorian chaise lounge while daintily touching her forehead with the back of her wrist] _Whatever would I’ve done without it?!_

Peeta’s blue eyes shone mischievously. “Okay… I get it. I overstepped. You can call me on it, you know.” He said with a wink, “I’m a big boy, and I can tell when a lady is being _sweet,_ to spare my macho feelings.”

“I would never!” I clutched my chest exaggeratedly, feigning outrage.

It truly was amazing, how being committed to Gale had watered down my infatuation with Mr. Peeta some, it was easier to joke around him without feeling subconscious, but still, something about his winks and smile made my tummy clench a little.

Mr. Peeta chuckled loudly. “Yeah, yeah…” we both smiled, strangely able to read each other’s unspoken banter. “Seriously though, talk to Hunter before you decide on college stuff. I know it’s a pride thing for him to give his girls their best chance in life. Plus, your education will be only yours, Miss K. It will follow you, no matter where life takes you in the future, and who you go there with.”

I rolled my eyes, but smiled good naturedly at him, “You know, Mr. Peeta, it’s never too late to switch trades, you know?”

Mr. Peeta arched his eyebrows, curious and surprised. “D’you think I should be doing somethin’ else for a living?”

“ _Motivational speaker_ sounds like a likely choice. Schools are always looking for ‘em. Who knows? Maybe you’d be good at it.” I said, nonchalantly checking my cuticles and fingernails.

“Hmm… motivational speaker, huh?”

“It’s a jungle out there,” I said sagely, eyes wide for effect.

“Hmm, let’s say there’s a giant cake in this jungle of yours…”

It was my turn to snort-laugh, completely unladylike.

“What? It may need motivation of the fondant persuasion!” He pressed, eyes ridiculously round.

“Let’s say we move on, and go on to work before they fired us?” I quipped back.

* * *

T’was the night before Gale reported to Boot Camp, and all through to my house, nothing was stirring, ~~except the snake in Gale’s pants~~ not even my _common sense_.

Earlier that day I unlatched the lock on my window— the same window that’d only been open a total of three times in all the years my family lived in that house— and the entire process to get the frame unstuck from the panel, was loud and down right idiotic, but I managed to get it loose, without anyone poking in to investigate why was I grunting and banging at the wall for 15 minutes straight.

Then, came the big complication of getting Gale’s 6’2” frame to fit— and cross— the 2’3”X2’6” opening of my window, without waking up my family.

When we were little, Prim used to sneak into my bedroom on nights when our parents locked their door from the inside to get some _adult time_ alone, and we would cuddle together in my bed until morning, like a pair of baby octopuses; but after she started middle school, she became too cool to share a bed with me… well, I’d never been so happy to have my bedroom to myself, than in that moment, as Gale’s long limbs spilt into my bedroom, like a daddy-long-legs venturing away from his cobweb.

It was a good thing Gale had amazing hunting and stalking skills, because a lesser boy would’ve given himself away, trying to sneak into his girlfriend’s bedroom at midnight, for a private ‘going away’ rendezvous.

Earlier that evening, both our families— sans Mr. Hawthorne— got together at a nice restaurant for a farewell dinner, in my Marine boyfriend’s honor. Gale had been sweet and polite, very gentlemanly and proper all throughout supper, but every now and then our eyes would meet across the table, and the chitchat of our siblings and parents would recede to the background, and I’d have to kick his shins under the table, afraid he’d give away our secret plans with how intensely he’d stared at my mouth or the modest cleavage of my dress… _Yes_ , I actually wore a dress for the occasion, and it had a tasteful little heart shaped neckline that accentuated my boobs nicely. Madge helped me chose it, like any BFF would.

Gale’s tread was flawlessly silent, ghost like, putting his full weight on his feet as soon as he pushed off the windowsill.

“Leave it open!” I hissed when his torso turned, ready to slide down the open panel. “That’s an ornery window, if you ever encountered one.”

“Seems appropriate,” Said Gale trapping my face into his paws for a hungry kiss. “Ornery window, for my ornery girl.” He said, momentarily breaking the kiss, to start working on the buttons of his shirt.

“Hush now!” I chided, my own fingers flying up to help him with his belt buckle, right before his mouth collided with mine again.

With Gale’s shirt disposed off, and his pants pooling around his still shodded feet, it was my turn to lift my sleep shirt above my head and toss it somewhere into the dark room, leaving me in my tiny sleep shorts.

“Fuck!” Gale groaned quietly, pained, as soon as my breasts jiggled free and bare in front of him. He reached a hand to gently squeeze one orb, looping his other arm around my waist to drag me flushed against his hot chest. “How am I supposed to leave this bedroom now?” He whined into my ear, while I giggled and gasped.

“Same way you came in... _quietly_ ,” I told him, wrapping my arms around his neck, and claiming his mouth as we tumbled together upon my waiting bed.

* * *

In my quest to impress Peeta Mellark back before things with Gale became more _involved_ , and because I had _no_ concept of having a chilled, relaxed, easy going school year, I decided it was a great idea to take up French, as my Junior year Foreign Language class. I had the gall to delude myself into thinking that after passing Spanish with flying colors, another Latin based language would be a piece of cake… I was _gravely_ mistaken.

French and Spanish were vastly different languages. My poor tongue couldn’t get the sounds right, let alone form any intelligible words besides ‘fromage’ and ‘crêpe’. To make matters worse, my teacher, Mrs. Cardew, was an insufferable witch, whose powers of evil seemed to regenerate by drinking the tears of misery of her students. She wasn't even that good of a teacher! I highly suspected she had never actually held a conversation in French with anyone outside the school grounds for that matter.

The fact of the issue, was that I was failing the class— for a plethora of reasons, namely, impressing Peeta wasn’t as pressing to me anymore since I had Gale to worry about— and I needed help to pass the class, or else, my precious 3.9 GPA would drop, and I couldn’t allow that to happen, or my life would be ruined for ever! _Ruin!!!_

_Dramatic enough?_

The day Daddy caught me chewing at the end of my braid, with red-rimmed eyes, refusing his invitation to go fishing the next morning, was the moment he put his foot down! He sat me at the kitchen table for an intervention. 

“What’s the matter, Catkin?” He asked, fixing me with one of his ‘dad stares‘, and I nearly sobbed, spilling all my French class woes out to him, like the end of the world was finally catching up to me and I had left my _apocalypse kit_ forgotten in my imaginary _doomsday bunker_.

Daddy listened attentively; then, when I was done, he got me a cup to water— which I drained right then and there— and once I shook my head, refusing another cup-full, he sat next to me and hugged me tightly.

“Okay, what you need is a tutor.” He said, helpful, pensive.

 _Obviously_ , my petulant brain supplied, _In case Daddy hadn’t noticed, we were in short supply of those! Hence the horrendous mascara tracks running down my cheeks!_ “I wouldn’t even know where to look for a tutor,” I sniffled loudly. _Plus, how was I to pay one if one appeared out of thin air? The candy store didn’t give me a whole lot._

Daddy smiled, ruefully, as if reading my mind.

We went to the only person in town we knew, who was fluent in French.

* * *

  
Daddy and I stepped up to the rear door of Mellark’s Bakery.

It was strange going into a place I was so familiar with, from a totally alien entrance, and yet, I had seen Mr. Peeta climb the same steps countless times before.

I gave Daddy a sideways look, half shy, half nervous. Daddy winked and smiled, and then knocked three times into the steel slab of the door.

I stood straighter, hugging my notebook and French-English dictionary to my chest as titghly as I could.

We only had to wait a minute or so before the door groaned open and the flour-streaked face of a completely perplexed, bater-crusted, employee greeted us.

“Um… yeah? What—“

“I’ll take it from here! Thank you, Johnny.” Mr. Peeta’s wide shoulders— in a pristine chef’s jacket— practically filled the entire width of the door frame… or seemed like, since he sort of slid between the door and Johnny (who kinda zapped out of existence in a cartoonish way).

Mr. Peeta smiled broadly at Daddy as soon as his blue eyes centered on him. “Right on time!” He exclaimed stepping aside to let us in.

I scurried in just after Daddy, feeling bashful for no good reason at all.

The men clapped each other’s backs in greeting, and finally Mr. Peeta looked at me, the corner of his eyes crinkled when he smiled.

“Hi there, Miss K. Welcome to my turf.” He said genially, spreading his arms wide, proudly showing off the kitchen of the bakery, a place I had never set foot in until then.

I nodded and squeaked a tiny “Hello” before moseying closer to Daddy, like a shy toddler.

We got a few curious glances from the handful of employees working the ovens or shaping dough into buns and rolls, but everyone went back to work pretty quickly, as if we weren’t all that interesting an anomaly after all.

“So, Hunter says you need a little help with some assignment?” Mr. Peeta asked eyeing Daddy, and then me.

Daddy made a subtle head gesture, signaling that from then on, I had to explain the situation myself.

 _Right_ …

“Uh…” _Eloquent!_ “So…” seemed like besides not knowing a lick of French, my brain decided to completely forget how to speak English as well.

Seeing as my words failed, I jerked the books in my arms upwards, not really knowing if that actually conveyed anything at all to anyone.

“French.” I finally spat out, and then, it was hard to stop the word vomit. “All I know is the numbers from ‘ _Un_ ’ to ‘ _Dix_ ’. And ‘ _escargot_ ’ for some reason that absolutely makes no sense to me, since I’ve never even had snails, I know ‘ _oeufs_ ’ and ‘ _fromage_ ’ go well together in omelettes, which should count for something, right?!

”But I’m afraid I’m gonna fail my French class, because I’m slaughtering the pronunciation of _Notre-Dame_ , and Ms. Cardew is a straight-up witch, who’s probably never set foot in Notre-Dame either, since it is a church, and all she would accomplish by going there is for the ground to open up and suck her back to heck from whence she came... still, Ms. Cardew will criticize my not being culturally learned anyw—“

“Pumpkin!” Daddy cut me off, placing a comforting hand on my shoulder. “I think Mr. Peeta got the gist of it.” Daddy smirked.

Peeta chuckled.

I blushed.

 _Great!_ That was just… _great_!

“Hey! It’s alright. I had my own issues learning the language myself, but… with a lot of practice and determination, now I can recite stuff like:

“Lorsque j'avais six ans j'ai vu, une fois, une magnifique image, dans un livre sur la Forêt Vierge qui s'appelait _Histoires Vécues_. Ça représentait un serpent boa qui avalait un fauve.”

“Oh!” _Gale who???_

_Clean up on the main floor! Drooling girl alert!_

Okay… that was _HOT_!

Peeta Mellark spoke French to me, and my knees wobbled under my weight, I lost my grip on the books I was holding and almost let them fall to the floor, my whole body became overheated, and to my never ending shame, a tiny bit of slick escaped my innermost parts… _in front of my Father_ in a room _full_ of people.

I could die!

I had to blink at least twenty five times in quick succession to snap out of it, and then shifted my stance, pulling up my books higher onto my chest, fully flustered. “That was beautiful… what, um—“

Peeta smiled so broadly I was almost blinded. He shook his head. “That was the first paragraph of a novel called The Little Prince, and it talks about a six year old boy being mesmerized by the picture of a Boa Constrictor swallowing an animal whole.”

“ _Oh..._ ” I wondered where was the closest storm happening? I needed to be zapped out by lighting. “At least it sounds… less gross in another language.” I said, wrinkling my nose.

Both Daddy and Mr. Peeta laughed.

“The novel is great. You should read it. They have it in English.” Said Mr. Peeta encouragingly.

”Is the entire story about stuff boys find fascinating, like snake eating habits? Or was that just the first paragraph?”

Peeta smiled, “Read it and see. It’s more philosophical than that. Come on,” He motioned for us to follow him, “Let’s go into my office, so I can see what we have to work with.”

“Actually, I’m just gonna leave you two to it, and get Francine serviced while you work. Can’t have my little girl driving around town in a truck whose oil levels never get checked, now, can I?”

I didn’t want Daddy to leave, mostly because I couldn’t be trusted not to make a fool of myself without Daddy as a buffer, seeing as repeatedly reminding myself I was with Gale was becoming less effective by the minute, and I was growing tongue-tied and clumsy by the same degree.

Daddy ducked out a few minutes later, and I just stood there, praying I’d be cool for the next hour or so, while we worked on my foreign language class. My new mantra became “I need to save my GPA”; It helped a lot. And… I had to admit, spending time at the bakery’s office wasn’t bad at all!

I followed Mr. Peeta into a startlingly bright room, with deep burgundy chairs, a huge, leafy ficus in an equally large pot, and a comically small oak desk, flanked by a row of mismatched filing cabinets pushed against the back wall. The strangely portioned furniture made the space feel like it had been thrown together as an afterthought, yet it made it feel bizarrely welcoming.

“So, what do you want to work on first? I guess I should take a look at your notes to see—“

Someone harrumphed and I practically jumped out of my skin when I saw Mr. Mellark _Senior_ , sitting on a chair completely obscured by the ficus tree. The man was drinking from a bottle of water, and awkwardly folded a messy newspaper with his free hand, against his thigh.

Mr. Peeta sucked in a breath, as if startled as well by his father’s previously hidden presence in the office.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Mellark,” I stuttered to the baker, who looked more and more like a Santa Claus in training with the passage of time.

The older baker smiled and nodded silently in answer, then motioned to my bag with his white-haired head, “You wouldn’t happen to have a squirrel or two in that bag of yours I could fry up for supper, would you?” He asked in a grandfatherly voice, that sounded just as full of mirth, as it was full of longing.

I blinked. “Um… I’m afraid I don’t have any squirrels in my bag, sir. Sorry.” I said half confused and half amused.

“Pity. Your daddy was the only person around one could consistently count on to trade squirrels with, but that was back when it wasn’t frown upon to eat them critters anyway.” Said the man smiling with a faraway look in his deep blues.

Mr. Peeta gave a long suffering sigh. “Father…” I could hear the weak frustration in his voice.

“I remember the last time you daddy brought over a squirrel,” the old man said unbothered. “He was so proud, telling us how you hit ‘em with one shot, right through the eye! And truly, there were no other piercings in the thing, but the death stroke. You couldn’t have been but... ten or eleven?”

I chuckled nervously at that. I did use to shoot squirrels with my bow when I was little, but I hardly remember selling them for meat.

“I’m sorry, we haven’t gotten any squirrels in a long while, but I’ll tell you what! Next time we’re out huntin’, I’ll be sure to get one, just for you, sir. How’s that?”

“Excellent!” Said the baker tapping the newspaper against his knee before standing up. “And, does the little girl still make goat cheese? Tell her to bring me some as well. I swear your little sister inherited y’all’s Granny’s cheese making magic. Best things I’ve ever eaten.” He made a smacking with his lips, which had me smiling.

“I’ll see what I can do, sir.”

“Thank you, kindly, little missy.” Mr. Mellark gave Mr. Peeta a reluctant look, and called his goodbyes before returning to the bustle of the kitchens.

“Did we… interrupted his break, or something?” I asked Mr. Peeta nodding in the direction his father just left.

Again, Mr. Peeta took a long breath and shook his head with a fond smile. “He’s ‘ _retired_ ’.” He made quotation marks with his fingers. “But you’ll find him here, putzing around, more often than not.” He rolled his eyes before chuckling, “Hillbilly! Still dreaming of roadkill stew and sun-brewed sweet tea for the most part.”

I laughed heartily at that. “Reminds me of my grandmother.”

“I guess so. But your grandma was classier than that!”

We settled some after that, and I had to admit, the bizarre encounter with the old baker set me at ease in an unexpected way; so much so, we were able to work through a couple of units from my manual, while practicing some basic pronunciation and grammar.

Before I knew it, Daddy was knocking on the office door to collect me, and surprisingly, I felt content with my progress, small as it was.

Thus, started my weekly visits to the bakery’s kitchen door, for my one hour sessions of French tutoring with Mr. Peeta. It also started a never ending battle of “Let me pay you for your trouble,” and “That won’t be necessary, it’s my pleasure,”, followed by, “I insist, sir! Your time is valuable to me, so is your knowledge.” And then he’d countered with “Nonsense! Y’all do it for me if our places were reversed.”

It never ended! 

On our third session, during a lull of time when I was bored of my practice sheet and the endless list of words I had yet to translate with my dictionary, I looked up from my work, and simply blurted out the first question that popped into my head. 

“How come you came back to Panem? You could’ve literally gone anywhere you wanted with your credentials, but you came back here.”

Mr. Peeta seemed startled, taken aback by the question. He was wearing reading glasses, which in my opinion, added one more layer of likability to an already handsome man, but that was besides the point.

He took his glasses off, and considered my question, folding and unfolding the glasses’ legs.

“My family is here.” He said after a moment. “My nephews are here. I turned 32 when I got all my certifications as a Pastry chef. I felt the need to settle down, lay roots in a quiet place.”

He sat straighter in his rolling chair, glasses forgotten on top of my dictionary.

“I like to tease my father, call him a hillbilly, but… you see, I’m mountain folk too. The hazy hills, the blue people, that sweet, Appalachian twang in my voice… it’s all deeply coded in my blood. I couldn’t have run far if I wanted to. I didn’t want to.”

“Do you miss Paris, though?”

He smiled, eyes unfocused. “Yeah. A whole heap.” He whispered. “Paris was great. Simply spectacular. So much history and color, so much culture and pride. The respect for the arts, the unapologetic appetite for delicious food and wine… it was just grand! But even with all of that, people always took time to enjoy life.

“Is perhaps the thing I miss most about Paris. Not the food, or the arts, although I miss that a big deal, but there’s a slower pace of life in France, compared to here in the US.” He said, almost longingly.

“Pace of life?” I prompted, curious to hear what he had to say about living abroad, since the furthest I’ve ever been from home was Florida, and that had been years earlier.

“Yeah… in France, people take time to rest, enjoy a book under the shade of a tree, take a nap on the fluffy lawn of a park. I used to watch the sunsets on the grass, while my buddies took long naps sprawled next to me on the banks of the Seine. It just seemed to me, nobody was in a hurry to go anywhere, not like here, at least. Here in America, we’re always going, on the clock, always grinding, always looking for the next activity we _have_ to do to fill the time, because you can never be idle. But there, you don’t even have to have money to enjoy yourself. Many gardens are free, Thursday my friends and I would take advantage of Student Night, and sit at cafes sipping coffee or wine...”

 _Ah!_ My mind conjured up a stereotypical scene from a cartoon or a movie, where a group of beret wearing folks sat around a round table in the middle of the sidewalk, smoking cigarettes and twirling champagne glasses in their fists, while laughing or discussing poetry.

I had no idea if the image in my mind’s eye was even representative of the reality, let alone, if it could be considered an offensive one, but I blamed mainstream media for it, and inserted a younger version of Peeta into that picture, the one wearing a baseball cap backwards, with a mess of blond curls peeking from under the hem, and suddenly I felt a pang of _envy_ … what of, I wasn’t sure.

Peeta kept going, unawares of my internal thoughts, “Haven’t you noticed, how here in America, we are always busy? Busy with school, work, sports, hobbies... _stuff_. Don’t get me wrong, I love having all those things, we thrive on tight schedules; it’s our culture I guess, the problem is, I can’t remember the last time I sat in a park just for the heck of it and just… _breathed_.”

We passed into contemplative silence for a long while, and then I smoothed down the page in front of me. “Mmm…” I cleared my throat, “I’ve never been outside the USA, but Paris sounds nice.” I practically squeaked.

“Oh, it is! It’s _beautiful_. They ain’t lying when they call it City of Lights. You should go someday. I think you’d like the gardens there, like jardin du Luxembourg and jardin des Plantes for example. Very pretty. Ile de la Cité by Notre-Dame and the Seine river... both had perfect lightning to draw and paint... it was just a perfect place to hone in my skills, really.”

“Did you have a favorite place to visit while there?”

“Musée d'Orsay!” He said enthusiastically, didn’t even have to think about it. He chuckled, “I could go there and sketch to my heart’s desires... I love museums, in case you hadn’t noticed, and in France they support the fine arts more than anything. Did you know that in Paris, most museums are free admittance every first Sunday of the month? Well… except the Louvre, they offer free entry on the first Saturdays of the month after 6:00 pm, and all day on July 14th, which is Bastille Day.”

“You seemed to know how to explore Paris on a budget,” I snickered.

“Ain’t that the truth?!” He shook his head, “When you’re a foreign student, paying for your own stuff abroad, you figure out ways to save all your moola for rent and food and services.”

“How old were you then?”

“I was 27 when I arrived in Paris. Not quite young in American standards, but still, I was a foreigner and a practically broke student.”

“How did you make money then?”

“I got a special work permit, and was lucky enough to get a job in a boulangerie, amassing loads of practical experience I later brought home,” he grinned toothily. “I also did some street painting and sold my art in a few places by the Seine, until I was lucky enough to qualify for a spot at Montmartre, place du tertre, which is the most spectacular place for an artist to be. It’s like a market where you can see some 150 artists or so paint, draw, sketch people... But not just anyone can work there. You have to take a test and pass it, to earn your spot.”

”That sounds...” _fascinating, mesmerizing, intriguing,_ “awesome!” _Ugh!_

Peeta smiled, “I think it’s time for a break,” he said, and I almost whined in disappointment, “I’ve been answering all this questions for you, I think I should ask at least one of my own, don’t you think?”

I frowned, “There isn’t much to say about me.” I meant to say: _I’m not as interesting as you._

“Come on, Miss K, asking questions mutually, is how people work at friendships.”

 _Oh, goody!_ I wasn’t very good at making friends... 

“Fine… what would like to know?”

“The deep stuff, of course. I mean, I’ve been telling you all about my favorite memories of Paris, wouldn’t it be fair if I asked something important, like... what’s your favorite color?”

I laughed. “Well… that’s going too far!” I said still giggling.

“Really! What is it, though.”

“Green.” I said plainly, softly. “Yours?”

“Orange… but subdued. Like a sunset.”

“Mmm… beautiful.”

“You should see the gorgeous colors of sunsets while sitting in a Parisian park, or by the river banks,”

“Maybe I should.” I said wistfully. “Maybe I will.”

* * *

  
It was Halloween weekend, the temperature was still mild and the sun was just starting to lazily descend, and I was preoccupied, responding to a text from Madge —while walking to the parking lot— while trying to be sympathetic to my best friend’s rant about her mother’s permanent migraines; I didn’t realize what was being said by the two women, raging, in front of me on the sidewalk of the square.

“— you have to be a special kind of _biotch_! Pardon my language hon, but I’m just… _grrrr_!”

 **Me:** _I’m telling you Madge, sprinkling pulverized Tylenol on your mom’s tea won’t help your case!_

“You don’t have to be so polite to that two-face, blood-sucking, good-for-nothing gold digger! Call her what she really is, Delly!”

 **Madge:** _How do you know? Are you a doctor now?_

_Wait, what?! Delly?_

“Fine! That… _bitch_!” The word was hissed so very lowly I almost missed it, but my attention had fled Madge’s texts when I realized that the two ladies walking ahead of me where Clove and Delly Mellark.

What _really_ caught my attention was what was said next.

“To treat someone as sweet as Peeta the way she’s done! _Ugh_! She deserves to be insulted!” Delly sounded like an outraged chihuahua.

My eyes went wide. _What? What did the ‘Biotch‘ do? Speak, Ms. Delly, SPEAK!_

“So… is he going down there or what?” Delly suddenly changed gears on me, while my phone kept pinging in my hand.

 _Later Madge!_ I thought to myself, _This is an emergency, and I don’t even know what’s going on!_

“Oh, of course not dear.” Clove laughed, and waved a hand dismissively. “He’ll be stupid if he lets that succubus drag him out to California to finalize their divorce. No, he was smart enough to file here. North Carolina is a no fault state and all, so he didn’t have to do much as filing for divorce went. But I’m convinced the whole reason that _tramp_ insisted they moved out there, was to take advantage of California‘s divorce lawyers and what not…”

I stopped listening, instead, I ran straight to the bakery’s back door, before my legs gave out and the hysteric sobs tore through me... I had to keep it together, for him. 

Peeta Mellark was getting a divorce, and I felt guilty for being so happy about it.

The door swung open, and since all the employees were now used to see me there for tutoring, I just asked breathlessly to see _him_ , and got directed to his office, where he sat at his tiny desk, with his head buried between his arms. 

“Come on!” I said grabbing him by the sleeve of his jacket. “Maybe if we hurry, we could still see it.” I said, shakily. 

”What?” Mr. Peeta looked up at me, with bleary, unfocused eyes, confusion making him compliant when I tugged at his arm to get him on his feet.

”Just... come on!” I insisted, pulling with all my might, dragging him away from the desk clumsily.

Peeta followed me out of the office, through the shop front, and the main doors, then we crossed the road to the square, and I plopped right in the green, on a slightly damped patch of grass facing the waning afternoon sun. I patted the ground beside me. “Come on, Monsieur Peeta, let’s watch this sunset together, right on this here grass, like proper French beauty-gazers.”

Mr. Peeta stared at me for a long second, until my meaning sunk in, then his smile overtook his entire face, and could almost overlook the dark rings under his tired, red-rimmed eyes. “I’d like that, very much, Mademoiselle K.”

He sat down next to me. 

I hugged my knees to my chest, and rested my chin on my wrist. 

Peeta just sprawled his legs out, like the exhaustion was too great for more.

”Merci, Katniss.” He said, gratefully. 

“It’s your favorite color. I figured, you wouldn’t wanna miss it.”

”No, I wouldn’t.” 

When there was only a sliver of sun clinging to the horizon, and the sky had dyed purple and dark blue, Mr. Peeta laid on his back with his head on the crook of his arms, and closed his eyes, sighing with relief.  
  
"Un grand amour rend léger tous les maux qui nous semblent trop lourds à porter seul.”

I turned my eyes to his placid face, a slight smile curling his lips. 

“Another quote about boas eating animals without chewing them up?” I quipped, smartly.

He smiled broadly, eyes still closed. “A great love makes light all the evil that seems too heavy to carry alone... by George Sand.“ 

Tears prickled the corner of my eyes, and I had to look away, because he decided to open his eyes, and I didn’t want him to know I knew... but... he did anyway, and it was okay. 

“I’m sorry, Mr. Peeta.” I whispered to the grass under my feet.

”Don't be. But, thank you for this,” he gestured at the sky, “This... my marriage ending... isn’t a great evil. It’s just life, and friends— like you— make life lighter too.” 

“Mr. Peeta,” I said after a while. “You’re loved. Just not... like you expect.”

I got up then, and before he could say anything, I sped walk to my truck, unable to hold my own feelings in check anymore. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Le Petit Prince_ (The Little Prince) by Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, 1943. Is a personal favorite. Follows the story of a Pilot who after crashing his propeller airplane in the desert, finds a little boy with a fantastical tale about interplanetary travels, his love for a prickly rose, and host of other stuff, it covers an array of philosophical themes from the innocent perspective of a child. It’s perhaps one of the most translated works from its original French at over 350 languages worldwide. It’s a very sweet read, and it will make you think. I recommend it to children and grown ups of all ages. 
> 
> I’m gonna have to apologize before hand for this end notes being so short. Usually I would spent a lot of time researching my touristic landmarks, but Peeta just went overload on Paris, and while everything he mentioned is worth a whole foot note with detailed commentary, I’m only going to included a few key notes… sorry about that, but guess what, google is a great place to look everything up I mentioned in this chapter! 
> 
> Bastille Day is the common name given in English-speaking countries to the National Day of France 🇫🇷 , which is celebrated on July 14th. In French, it is formally called Fête Nationale... Not disimilar to Independence Day for Americans. It commemorates the Storming of the Bastille on 14 July 1789, and the unity of the French people at the Fête de la Fédération on 14 July 1790. 
> 
> I want to give a HUGE shoutout to: French-Janelle and dreamingreaderuniverse@tumblr, for their amazing contributions to this chapter. You gals will never know how much I enjoyed reading all you had to say and suggest, and I may need more help from you for future chapters!!! 
> 
> So, **let’s talk plot** : In my outline (which is now derailed), Katniss was turning 18 in this chapter, also, we were supposed to see Cashmere one more time before the divorce, but as I noted above, that outline has been partly scratched. There were two more things I wanted to include in this chapter that got pushed for the next one, but I’m pretty happy with how this one turn up.
> 
> Next, we will have the Galeniss fall-out, and it won’t be very pretty, in fact, you’ll hate people after the next chapter, but this _is_ a HG fic, and angst is to be have! Bare with me, we are very close to end this Slow Burn!


	7. Dear Catnip

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Disclaimer:** I miscalculated and it seems we still have a smidge if Galeniss in this chapter, and then in the next one, its the end of it. Nothing graphic.
> 
> This hasn’t been betaed, and I should’ve gotten my French speaking peeps check it out before posting, because the French in this chapter was mostly google translated and I can’t guarantee it’s accurate... I apologize about that. I’ll try to do it better next time.

> _Dear Catnip:_
> 
> _It’s the first time today I get to sit down for no other reason, than I can, and I want to. I’m beat!_
> 
> _To answer the question from your letter: Nah, I wouldn’t want you to enlist. Girls here get the shit beat out of them the same as the boys, and I don’t think you’d be able to keep a straight face when one of the bastards in charge gets on your face. I know you. You wouldn’t be able to keep from shooting a MF in the mouth for yelling at you… you better stay home where you won’t get court martialed for attacking a superior. Plus, males and females have segregated boot camps anyway._
> 
> _Training has been a bitch the last few days, but despite being tired as hell, I’m pretty happy with my progress so far. My Sargent thinks I could be training with the sharpshooters and shit soon. Maybe become a sniper! I can’t wait!_
> 
> _Hope your Thanksgiving was fine. Mine was alright. Kinda weird not being at home with Ma and the children, but the food was pretty stellar, and we got to play football and skip drills. A good day, all in all._
> 
> _Alright, I’ll write to you soon again. Say hello to my Ma when you see her. Take care of the kids for me, won’t you?._
> 
> _Gale.-_

I crumpled the wrapper of the York peppermint patty I was eating, and folded Gale’s letter neatly, before grabbing for a notebook and a pen to write my response.

Communication with Gale was close to null for the three and a half months that boot camp lasted. He was pretty much sequestered during basic training, and he could only make a handful of phone calls, and he reserved those for his mother and siblings. There was no way to let us know when he was gonna call home, so, usually I’d hear about it the next time Hazelle saw me, which could be a day later or two weeks, depending on the number of errands she needed me to run for her on Gale’s stead.

I knew it was hard for him. His family was his first priority, always. I understood. Plus, it wasn’t like I didn’t communicate with him at all. We were able to exchange handwritten letters, and honestly, reading his chicken-scratch penmanship, hard to read on a good day as it was, made me smile.

But Gale was even stiffer in letters than he was in person, always so stoic and serious.

I sat up on my bed, sighed and made a conscious effort to be extra peppy in my letter to him, peppering love and care into each word I wrote, so he knew he was missed.

Wasn’t that what every guy wanted? A girl back home, pining and waiting for them? Mama thought it was romantic, and I guess I’d started seeing it that way too despite myself. Maybe I wasn’t as unaffected as I thought myself to be.

Gale’s letters remained constant over the following months, even after boot camp, yet with little more warmth than a Christmas card to a beloved cousin living overseas. It annoyed me, but I understood.

That was just Gale being Gale. 

But… would it kill him to be more… _affectionate_ every now and then?

* * *

“J'aime bien les couchers de soleil. Allons voir un coucher de soleil…”

“ _I am very fond of sunsets. Come, let us go look at a sunset…_ ”

“Bien joué, Mademoiselle Katniss! c'était parfait!”

“Merci, monsieur Peeta!” I didn’t know about _perfect_ , but it was good progress, so I mumbled a bashful _thanks_. “I’ve been reading it you know. Le Petit Prince. In French.” It hadn’t been easy, and I kept a copy in English close by just in case, but I read _The Little Prince_ in French! 

Peeta smiled at me, pleased. “Well, you’ve come a very long way in the last few months, ma’am. I’m… proud of you.”

I beamed at his praise.

“And, since you’ve been an excellent pupil so far… I’m gonna treat you with something very special!”

“Oooh! Is it covered in chocolate?” I asked eagerly.

He released a full chuckle, “Maybe! Sit tight! No peeking!” 

Mr. Peeta left the office with a pep in his step, satisfied with my progress in the Foreign Language class. I had a test the day we came back to school from Spring Break, and I had the highest marks in the class, which made Mrs. Cardew a tad testy, but who cared?!

“It’s nice to hear my son laugh.”

I jerked back from the piece of paper where Mr. Peeta and I had been practicing translations for random quotes of the Little Prince.

“I’m sorry, dear. Didn’t mean to spook ya. I just saw Peeta come outta the office, and decided to step in to say hello.” Said Mr. Mellark, smiling at me.

“Oh… It’s okay, sir. You didn’t scare me too badly,” I grinned.

“Good!” The baker stepped fully into the office. “The missus will have my head for saying this, but Peeta’s divorce came through a couple of weeks ago. All he does ever since is shut himself in here to stew, like a cranky hermit.”

Of course _the witch_ wouldn’t want anyone speaking about something as gossip-worthy as a divorce, when it involved her family, but I had to say… the old baker caught made me perk up a little. 

Mr. Peeta hadn’t been wearing his ring since the day I took him to the square to watch the sunset; but hearing confirmation that it was all officially over, made my heart quickened. 

“Peeta’s had a hard few years, but he’s sweet and ongoing, it really is sad that his marriage failed and left such a sour taste in his mouth.” The old man shook his head sadly, “It seems, the only time I hear him laugh nowadays, is when he’s teaching you French.”

“Oh… that’s… um… he’s a great teacher, really. I’ve improved so much since the beginning of school.”

“Shame…” said Mr. Mellark, and I involuntarily arched surprised eyebrows at his comment. The man chuckled sheepishly, “forgive me for wishing you never passed the class, dear, I just miss hearing my son laugh, and I was hoping you’d stick around a bit longer, just to hear it more often. I know its selfish, but hey… I could hook you up with all the free dessert your little self could handle, if only stay a little longer.” Mr. Mellark winked at me, and shuffled back to the door.

I blinked, and smiled nervously at the man.

_What a Rascal!_

“Alright, mademoiselle K—“ Mr. Peeta strolled into the room carrying a tray and almost collided with his father, “Dad?” He squinted at the older baker, suspiciously, “Can we help you?”

“No, no… just saying hello to the little huntress. Also, Imma take one of this for the road. I’m heading home for the day,” said Mr. Mellark, lifting a purple macaron from Peeta’s tray and pretty much sauntering out of reach, before Peeta could complain.

“That was my favorite flavor!” Mr. Peeta whined at the open door. “Ugh! I should ban him from my bakery already!”

I let go of my laughter then.

“I’m glad you find his shenanigans amusing. Traitor! And here I was, bringing all these French pastries to share with you!”

He placed the tray of assorted sweets on the tiny desk, and before I lost myself to the treats, I said, “I have no idea what you’re talking about. Your daddy’s such a sweet man!”

“He’s a terrible influence on you,” He said, right as I plucked the last remaining purple macaron from the plate, giving him a self satisfied grin. “Why, you’re already stealing my favorite flavor macaron, just like the old man did!”

I took a bite of the cookie like treat, mainly because I was curious about Mr. Peeta’s favorite flavor.

I wasn’t disappointed!

“Mmm! Zeez eez dediciouz!” I said around a mouth full. “Wha eez eet?”

Mr. Peeta smirked, picking up a chocolate dipped madeleine. “Lavender, with sea salt caramel filling. You like it?”

“Jez! Eetz vonderful!” I swallowed. “What else do you recommend?” I asked eagerly.

Mr. Peeta laughed, “Well, missy, this will be a lesson in French cuisine… let’s start with the most popular French desserts in the US and go from there…”

He spent the rest of the session reciting recipes for éclairs, pain au chocolat, palmiers, and Crème brûlée… mostly in french. It wasn’t as if I was gonna go home and try my hand at puff pastries filled with chocolate, but I enjoyed trying to decifre ingredients and directions with my handy English-French dictionary, and every time Mr. Peeta laughed, I couldn’t help but to wished his father had stayed to hear it.   
  


* * *

  
On my eighteenth birthday, I found the most unexpected gift of all times waiting for me, in the school parking lot.

Gale was leaning on Francine, larger than life and looking like a darker— lankier— version of Sebastian Stan. _Yum!_

“Hello, Catnip. Happy birthday.”

I ran right into his open arms.

He hugged me tightly to his chest and spun me around, and then we were… eating each other’s faces like there was no tomorrow.

The embrace went on for like five minutes straight, until I returned to my senses, remembering we were in the school parking lot, effectively ending the kiss.

“When did you get here?” I asked breathlessly.

“Two days ago.” He said holding on to me.

“Two days ago? And I’m just seeing you now? None of the kids said anything to me!” I said half annoyed.

Gale shrugged. “I wanted to surprise you, so I told the kids to keep their mouths shut.” He smiled faintly. “It worked for once.”

I slapped his chest and eased out of his arms, “Well, that wasn’t very nice!” I tossed my bag into the cabin of my truck, and turned back to see him. “I didn’t even know you were done with training!”

Gale graduated boot camp a while back; Prim and I were able to join Hazelle and the kids for the ceremony, but that was months ago, and Gale went back to do some specialized training for the sharpshooters and whatnot. Communication was still spotty, but not as limited as before.

Seeing him home, in regular clothes, with muscles bulging everywhere, was _unexpected_ , and a great birthday surprise.

“Well, I’m here for ten days… eight now, and then, is back to the base.”

“Oh…” I was a little dissatisfied with that, but smiled at him nonetheless. “I’m glad you’re home, even if it’s that short.”

“Yeah… so, I talked to your folks, and they were okay with me picking you up here, and spending the rest of the evening together… just the two of us, if that’s okay with you, of course.”

It was more than okay with me! I had my sniper back for a little bit, and intended on making the most out of his visit. 

We spent the rest of the week practically glued to each other’s ribs. The days were a blur, I called off work a few times, and when I was at school I kept glancing at my watch. I barely saw my family, but they understood. I even cancelled French tutoring with Mr. Peeta, After all, I only had 3 weeks left of school for the year; still, after that initial day, Gale and I were never alone anymore. We fooled around over clothes when we could sneak away for a few minutes, but it wasn’t satisfying at all.

On Gale’s last night at home, Mama invited the Hawthorne’s over for supper, and by then, Gale’s frustration at our lack of intimacy was palpable.

I carved out as much time of my week as I could to spend it with him, I really did, but it wasn’t me the one with the problem.

Hazelle stuck like a leech to her son’s arm, and then, there were Posy and Vick who also needed their big brother’s attention, while Rory was more subdued; too cool and old to compete for Gale’s notice, which left me, with scraps of time, stealing a handful of minutes alone where we could. But I understood. I just quietly tagged along with Gale and went whatever the kids wanted to go.

But on that night, tensions came to a breaking point.

We were in the middle of supper; Daddy asked, “So, what’s next for you, Gale? More training? More specializations?”

Gale wiped his mouth on a napkin, “Well, I’ve been looking into family housing at my base, since I’m going to be stationed in Camp Lejeune for a while.”

“That’s nice! I didn’t know if you’d be able or not to bring your mother and siblings to live in the base with you.” Mama said serving herself some salad.

Hazelle looked up with hopeful eyes, “My sweet boy!” She cooed, “I hope not to be a burden. I need to figure out about my dry cleaning business—“

“The house would be for my future wife.” Gale grunted.

Everything went downhill from there.

I choked on the gulp of sweet tea I was drinking, and started coughing uncontrollably. My eyes watered, and Prim started slapping my back to help me recover.

Mama gasped.

Hazelle screeched, “Gale Hawthorne! do you mean to tell me you’re getting married without talking it over with your family?”

“Ma… hold your horses—”

“Nobodyisgettingmarried!” I wheezed in one breath.

“Catnip—”

“Well, of course nobody is getting married!” Daddy cried out, “Nobody has said anything to me about any marriages!” His voice was higher than usual.

“Why would you be told anything, Hunter?! It’s Katniss’ wedding! She can make her own choices, just like I did!” Mama was besides herself, angry. “It’s not the 1800’s!”

I was partly grateful for that nugget of girl-power wisdom, but I was still too shocked to process anything beyond Gale’s original announcement.

“ ** _I_** haven’t been told anything about a marriage!” I screeched.

“That’s ‘cause we haven’t had a minute alone to breathe!” Gale snapped.

“And that’s my fault how?” I bit right back.

“I didn’t say it was your fault!”

At that point, Posy started to cry, and Vick was covering his ears.

Daddy and Mama where still going at it in their corner of the table, “Why wouldn’t I be consulted first? It’s my daughter’s future! Do I not have a say in the matter? Is she emancipated without me knowing it?”

“She’s eighteen, Hunter!” Mama rolled her eyes. “She’s an adult now!”

Not to be outdone, Hazelle piped in, “The more pressing issue here is, that Gale has an obligation to his family. This matter needs to be discussed at home—“

“SHUT UP!”

We all fell silent while Prim stood by her chair seething; fists clenched, blue eyes flaming, face crimson with anger. “You’re all acting like a bunch of babies! You made Posy cry, Vick is hyperventilating and Rory is trying to get his sister to calm down without success, but none of you care!”

I looked around the table, and saw with horror that my sister was right. The children looked so stressed out and terrified. Shame wasn’t a strong enough word for what I felt looking at the people who were supposed to be my loved ones.

“I’m sorry, Posy. Sorry Vick. Rory. Prim too.” I said. I got out of my chair, and came to kneel next to Rory and Posy, to wipe away her tears. “We didn’t mean to make a scene. Gale and I need to talk some things through, but we shouldn’t have make a big nasty about any of this.” My speech was soft, but everything I said was pointed and explicit. 

“Are y’all getting married?” Asked Rory quietly.

”Not for a while. I wanna go to college first.” I said firmly. I wasn’t getting bullied into marriage at eighteen.

Gale muttered something under his breath I couldn’t hear, but then he spoke louder, “Will you consider colleges near Camp Lejeune? It’s a compromise. No wedding until schooling is done, right here in North Carolina, and anyone can come visit.”

“That’s a thought,” I said, smiling to Posy when she peeked behind Rory’s arm. “See Posy rosy, compromises, thoughts, and possible visits to Camp Lejeune… ain’t that neat?”

The rest of the adults apologized and tried to cheer up the younglings with extra desserts, but the night was basically ruined.

Hazelle and the kids went home shortly after, all smiles and hugs and kisses. Yet, things remained weird between her and my family for a while. She got over it eventually. 

Gale stayed to talk, but I just felt burned out.

I tried explaining that I wasn’t ready for a wedding.

“I’m not saying no,” I told him, holding soft eye contact, because it was important he understood. “All I’m saying is that I want to get a degree first… because my education would be mine, and follow me anywhere I go,” after saying those words, I finally understood what Mr. Peeta meant all those months earlier, when I got aggravated at him for telling me the exact same thing. 

“I don’t see why you need a career, when I’ll be completely capable of supporting us both and our potential babies... but, have it your way. If it makes you happy go to school. Just… make it fast.”

“Okay. I’ll look into schools near the base. But, I can’t promise I’ll find something I like.”

“Well, we’ll compromise when time comes to call.”

“We shall see.”  
  


* * *

Summer was in full swing, and Mama, Prim and I were at Target perusing the sunscreen aisle, when an unmanned shopping cart nearly crashed into us, just managing to veer left, and slamming right into the shelf of makeup remover products across.

Before any of us could react, a flash of mahogany-red hair zapped by us, and dove behind the red buggy without sparing us a glance, let alone an apology.

“Are you okay, baby?” The mellow, melodic voice of one Annie Cresta-Odair asked, with the barest wobble to her tone.

Mama, Prim and I blinked at one another, lost for words and jumpy from the sudden disruption of the almost mystical silence of the store.

I’d always thought Annie was a strange woman, but even that behavior was too much for her.

I glanced at where the shopping cart was still jammed against the shelves, making sure the merchandise hadn’t been damaged, and that’s when Annie popped up from behind the cart, holding a chubby, squirming toddler, twisting in her arms to free himself from his mother’s hold.

Someone skidded to a halt at the other end of the aisle, and heaved breathlessly, “You caught him! Finally!” The man bent at his waist, bracing his hands on his knees.

I couldn’t hold in my laughter at the absurdity of the situation.

Finnick Odair raised his sea green eyes towards me and gave a double take, comically sheepish in his haggard appearance. I’d never seen him like that before, and somehow, it made me smile fondly at him.

“Annie, look!” Mr. Finnick said, straightening up, “Target is letting Wild Critters shop inside now.”

I rolled my eyes and shook my head at his childish comment, “At least, I don’t look like I’m about to pass out from a little race around the store!”

Mama glared at me with disapproval, but waved at Finnick in greeting; Prim followed suit.

Annie, Finnick’s wife of almost 5 years, whispered an embarrassed “Hi…” and waved at us timidly.

Mama reached for Annie and gave her a sideways hug, and then ruffled Finnick Jr.’s mop of bronze hair.

The kid was a menace! A carbon copy of his father physically, and quite possibly in personality— which nobody really needed— yet, even the most aloof person in the world could sense the sheer happiness the boy brought to his parents’ lives. 

Annie smiled openly at Mama.

Finnick strutted down the aisle, as if he didn’t just almost fall on his bum trying to catch up to his toddler son, and came to snake an arm around his wife’s shoulders, wearing a million dollar grin on his face.

“So… what’s with the outfit?” He asked, pointing at me with an arched eyebrow, “What happened to the little girl dresses, and the tomboy cargo pants?”

“Finn!” An outraged Annie landed a well placed elbow to her husband’s ribs.

“Ouch! But she’s really, positively, scaring me with that getup!” He complained, rubbing at his side, while his wife wrestled the toddler into the buggy’s seat, amid much whining from father and son.

I was in stitches.

Finnick’s discomfort was short lived, and really, I didn’t mind telling him. After all, Katniss Everdeen in a silky, cream colored blouse, tucked into a forest green pencil skirt, had to be a right sight! I was wearing a pair strappy, brown pumps, that belong to Madge, and my hair was loose down my back, almost to my waist... it felt alien, not having a braid on. Then again, my complete ensemble felt alien on me. 

“Mayor Undersee took me and his daughter to his office for the afternoon,” I said gleefully.

“Ugh! Say no more!” He lifted a halting hand, “I’m sorry you had to go through all that boredom, kid,” Finnick said mock shuddering.

“Stop being so rude, Finn.” Annie chastised her husband quietly, then she turned to me, “Don’t listen to him, dear. You look lovely. Doesn’t she?” The last part was directed at her husband, with a glare.

It was the first time I’ve ever seen the woman show some temper. Annie Odair was… _delicate_. Special. Shy and reserved. The complete opposite to Finnick, really, yet no one watching them could doubt they were fiercely devoted, and madly in love with each other.

Annie didn’t have any family outside of Finnick and his grandmother, Mags, so when she learned Finnick Jr. was on his way, she kinda freaked out and got depressed. Mama, being a nurse practitioner, and having her own abandonment traumas offered to help with preparations for the baby’s arrival, and poor Annie latched on to her like a koala bear to an eucalyptus tree.

Once Finnick Jr. was born, though, we all saw this change in nervous, quiet Annie. She was suddenly fierce, determined and ready to tackle motherhood and come out the victor... too bad Finnick Jr. was a terror.

“Fine, since I’m not allowed to tease the Piranha Girl, let me be nosy... What brings you all to Target on this sunny, Friday afternoon, ladies?” He asked, winking.

Finnick Jr. tried to dive— head first— down the side of the buggy, just for his mother to thwart his attempt.

A tantrum ensued.

“We’re going on vacation next week!” Prim clapped excitedly, ignoring the toddler’s ear piercing screeches.

Finnick arched an eyebrow, “You convinced Hunter to leave his precious man cave long enough to go on vacation?” He asked teasingly. “Impressive!”

Mama laughed.

Was it me, or was Finnick Jr. looking a tad purple in the face?

“Yeah, well, it’s overdue. Plus Katniss will be a Senior this upcoming year, and I keep telling Hunter we better enjoy family time together, somewhere sandy and hot, before our chicks fly the coop.” Mama pinched my cheek, an adoring little smile on her face, and I just had to suppress my impulse to roll my eyes and bat her hand away.

Annie pulled a carrot stick from her bag and stuck it into her son’s pudgy, little hand, magically cutting off his meltdown as soon as he noticed the food in his fist.

“Oooh! Where does Piranha Girl plan on going after high school?”

Seriously, why didn’t Annie give the kid a carrot like... 3 minutes earlier? My left ear was probably permanently damaged by the kid’s howling!

“Oh, it won’t be anywhere far,” I dismissed. “It just needs to be far enough Daddy won’t get in a habit of popping in unannounced, but close enough I can still come home every weekend to do laundry.”

We all laughed. Even Annie, who seemed much more relaxed after managing to get Junior under control.

Nobody would ever know the capabilities of that child’s lungs just by looking at him drooling over his carrot. _Deceitful, little rugrat!_

“Well, have Hunter call me when you get back from vacation. He still hasn’t seen our new pontoon, and I really wanna brag about it.” Finnick winked, and Annie rolled her eyes, mouthing the word “ _Men_!” to my mother.

Mama tried to hold her laughter in, but Prim was besides herself with the prospect of going out in the Odairs new boat.

“Oh that sounds like fun! Can we go tubing too?” Prim asked enthusiastically.

“Sure can, Little Mermaid.” Assured Finnick, indulgently. “You say the word, and we’ll do it!”

We exchanged some quick goodbyes, grabbed a couple of sunscreens, and parted ways with the Odairs.

“Let’s go see the bathing suits,” said Mama, leading the way.

We _all_ needed an update on swimming wear, specially Prim and I, since neither of us fit in our old ones anymore. 

I was underwhelmed with the task of choosing; I looked around and grabbed a practical, one piece in red, because Grandma E always said that when one went in the ocean, one should wear bright colors, easily spotted against the dark waters, just in case. It was a sensible choice, really.

Prim on the other hand, picked at least half a dozen tops and bottoms she could mix and match, and was heading to the dressing rooms to try them on, before deciding on three pairs, which was all Mama was willing to pay for.

Mama made me go and look through the two piece options, because according to her, it was only fair I got a second suit, since Prim was getting three, and she didn’t want to be accused later on of having favorites.

_Eye roll!_

Reluctantly, I picked out an orange, halter tankini top, with a plunging neckline and matching bikini bottoms. I wasn’t a prude, but I still didn’t want to show my stomach around to total strangers at the beach.

Mama insisted I tried on my selections, and I humored her, perfunctorily, just to get her off my back.

I was more pleased by the fit of the orange two-piece than I anticipated. _My boobs looked great_! It looked like I actually had cleavage for the first time in my life!

Prim disliked the fit of half her stuff, so she grabbed a whole rack of tops, and went back to try them on.

I rolled my eyes, tired of being on my feet, waiting around. My calves were burning with the exertion of having to walk in Madge’s stupid pumps all day. I still needed to grab a couple of things for the trip, like batteries for my portable reading light, which reminded me, Hazelle needed batteries for the TV remote, and Vick needed a replacement stylus for his Nintendo DS.

I promised Gale to watch over his family in his stead, making sure they had whatever they needed, in an attempt at getting Hazelle more used to rely on me. I popped in every couple of days just to check in with them and spend time with the kids. We all missed Gale, and it was good being with his siblings; felt like we were somehow closer to him. I guess, I was coming around to the idea of someday being part of their family. 

Prim slipped into the fitting room for the third time.

“Mama,” I called, half annoyed. “I need to get some batteries, and check on something in the electronics section?” I did one of them weird things, when you half announced you’re doing something, while also asking permission at the same time.

It was stupid, I’d been eighteen for five whole weeks, and still felt compeled to ask my mommy if it was okay with her if I went around the store on my own. I almost rolled my eyes at myself.

Mama had been frowning down at her phone, she looked up at me and nodded dismissively. “We’ll come get you once Prim’s done here, then we can look at sandals and water shoes. I gotta call the hospital real quick. Don’t go anywhere else before you see us!” She turned her back on me and brought her cellphone to her ear.

I shrugged, _as if anyone could get lost in a Target or something_.

I knocked on Prim’s door, just to be safe. “Hey, Mama’s on the phone with work, and I’m getting batteries at electronics.”

“Okay!” Prim called from the other side. “Take the buggy with you.”

“Aight!”

I grabbed the shopping cart, and started leisurely towards electronics. My leg muscles felt tight and tired, not being used to heels. I wondered how crossed would Mama be if I took a detour to the shoe department, and grabbed a pair of flip-flops to wear right then and there? I was full on fantasizing about ditching the stupid heels in the middle of the aisle, going barefoot the rest of the evening, when I reached my destination.

I went straight for the battery display: a four sided rack, almost as tall as me, arranged by brand and type on each side, and piled high with packs in all size and prices.

I took a four pack of triple A’s for Hazelle‘s remote, and an eight pack, lithium, double A’s, for my little light. Then, I spotted at the bottom of the rack, a starter pack of rechargeable batteries on clearance, it came with a charging station and four batteries… _what a deal!_

I returned the pack I had already taken, and bent down to pick up the one I wanted, but my calves muscles decided they had had enough of my shenanigans for a day, and locked in rebellion, almost making me face-plant on the floor.

I grabbed on to the stupid cart out of reflex, bumping the wheels into the rack, knocking down half the display of batteries on my feet.

_Oh! Fudge Monkey!!_

I was so freaking embarrassed, trying to pick up my mess before anyone could see me and laugh while pointing at me, I didn’t notice his presence, until he was literally above me.

“I’ll help you, ma’am!”

_Not him!!!  
_

_Anyone_ but _him!_

Big, slightly scared, baker hands appeared in my field of vision, picking up battery packs by the handfuls.

“I’m okay!” I practically cried out, shoving battery packs back into their slots.

“Nonsense. It’ll be my pleasure to assist a beautiful—“ we both looked up at the same time, and his eyes went as wide as saucers. “Katniss?” He basically sputtered, right before the armful of batteries he was holding, clattered back into the granite floor, even noisier than the first time.

Mr. Peeta stared at me without blinking, as if he saw an apparition.

“You okay, Mr. Peeta?” I asked, squeezing his forearm lightly.

“What?” He wheezed out, as if thinking— or speaking— was suddenly painful.

A store employee finally reached us, and somehow got us to stop trying to pick the mess, and promised it wasn’t a problem for him to tidy up for us. I think he was actually glad we didn’t put up a fight, and left him alone to do his job in peace.

Peeta was still a little discombobulated, otherwise, he would’ve put up a fiercer fight with the clerk to help him pick up the mess.

“Are you alright?” I asked him again, once out of earshot, worriedly. 

He nodded, eyes shifting everywhere, barely looking at me, which was extremely weird for him. I’d never seen him so… _flustered_ before.

“I’m fine. Why… why do you ask?” He swallowed. “Are, you? Okay, I mean. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. It’s just this darned shoes are giving me major restless leg syndrome, and I really wish I could kick them off.”

Mr. Peeta’s eyes scanned me, from my eyes down, until he found my feet. He blinked for the first time in a handful of minutes then. His tongue swept over his lower lip quickly, and then he gave a violent, mini head shake, before returning his blue eyes to mine.

He took a deep breath.

I smiled sheepishly. “I’m just not used to them, high heels.”

Peeta stared blankly at me for a second. Finally, he cleared his throat, and took a quick glance at my feet again. “That’s nice…” he frowned, then shook his head, “The shoes, are nice.” His frown deepened, “That’s not right... I meant, I’m sorry you’re uncomfortable, but , um, they look nice on you. The shoes. Like, uh… I mean, you look nice— Not, _nice_ —“

“ _I_ don’t look nice?” I cocked my head in confusion, if I hadn’t been actively trying to make sense of Mr. Peeta’s babbles, I would’ve felt insulted by his words, but I was just concerned for his well being at that point. He was acting so _weird_! 

“Yeah… no. I mean, you do look nice... not _just_ nice… but, _different_.”

“Oh,” I said, my shoulders sagging. “Is it a bad different?” I asked meekly. Unsured.

“No!” He exclaimed, eyes so wide, they were in danger of popping out of their sockets. “Not at all! You look gorge— grown— _great_!” He exhaled, “Pretty. I mean, pretty... _nice_.” He stuttered lamely, his eyes now enamored with his own shoes. “Let me start again,” he said after a second, smiling sheepishly at me, his eyes returning to my face. “You look very nice. What’s the occasion, if you don’t mind me asking?” He kind of cringed at his own words.

“Oh…” I smiled, because finally I’d be able to help him out of his strange rut. “So, Mayor Undersee wanted to _educate_ Madge about government and all things politics, since she’s 18 now and can vote and all that jazz. He kept talking about finding her a internship or something in his office, but Madge really doesn’t have any inclination on joining the family business, and she kept skirting around the issue, and then finally, she told her daddy she didn’t wanna go alone, because everyone would see it as nepotism if she got a job at his office; then Mr. Undersee said internships are voluntary, unpaid, work, so there really couldn’t be nepotism, but still, he told her she could bring along whomever she wanted to, and since I’m 18 as well, I got roped into it.

“Then, the mayor insisted we went and registered to vote, and started his spiel about how important it is and how it was both a duty and an honor, and yada yada yada… Then I mentioned how Mama practically campaigned for Hillary during the elections, while Daddy ended voting for the Independent candidate, and you could tell, Mr. Undersee didn’t approve of the turn in the conversation, and my feet were killing me already, so I couldn’t think of anything else to talk about, so I asked him if he votes for himself during elections, and Madge was dying laughing, but her father just sighed and turned to his assistant and ordered us donuts to snack on.

“And then, Mama came to pick me up from the Undersee’s home, and we came straight here, because otherwise she would’ve lost all motivation to get out of the house, and we _really_ needed bathing suits…” I picked up the two piece, sherbet orange tankini, and Peeta’s mouth fell open, his ears turned a flaming red that descended all the way down, under his collar. It was all I could do, not to step closer to take his temperature with my hand on his forehead. “It ain’t quite sunset orange… but it will do.” I said as nonchalantly as possible.

Mr. Peeta’s breath caught, and almost choked when he tried asking “Sunset orange?”

I shrugged, “You said it was your favorite color... not that I really got it because of it...” _I totally did!_ “Grandma E always said that bathing suits had to be a color that would clash loudly against the color of the water, so people can spot ya from anywhere, just in case. This one seemed like a pretty good option,” I smiled up at him, fiddling with the ends of my unbound hair.

“Huh… I’ve never thought of that before.”

“Yeah… well, I feel like I’m the only one still following the advice.”

“Well, I’ll start getting bright colored trunks for now on.”

I grinned at him.

We fell into a thick, nervous silence. Mr. Peeta’s gaze kept shifting to me and then away every so often.

“I didn’t recognize you.” Peeta said suddenly. “Not until I saw your eyes. I’m sorry if I frightened you.”

“You didn’t scared me! I recognized you as soon as you spoke. I was embarrassed for being a spas.” _Darned it, Katniss! Hold your tongue, girl!_

Peeta’s lips parted, about to protest, and that’s when all Hell broke loose around us.

Prim ran into me, practically tackling me to the ground like a linebacker to a practice dummy.

“Primrose Azure! What in tarnation is your deal?” I huffed, fighting myself on my feet, worried the darned pumps were now scoffed up.

“Katniss! There was a man... some _creep_! He was looking at me, but Mr. Finnick grabbed him by the scruff... and I think he’s gonna kill him!” 

“What?!”

Peeta reacted faster than I did, dumping into my cart the basket full of stuff he’d been carrying. He took off running in the direction Prim came from, tossing over his massive shoulder, “Stay here! I’ll sort this out!”

“What?!?” I screeched once more, this time indignant.

I stood there a second, a huge scowl took over my face, my temper exploded like a mini volcano. “Who does he think he is, ordering me around, like I’m some sort of baby?!” I bent down to wrestle the straps of my shoes free of their tiny buckles, and tossed them into the cart as well.

“Katniss…” Prim wailed.

I shoved the cart forward and stomped after, “He doesn’t even know where he’s going!” I hissed darkly.

“Katniss!” Prim started jogging next to me, to keep up with my feral pace. “Mr. Peeta said to stay put—“

“He’s not the boss of me! Is he the boss of you?”

“No… but he’s an adult—“

“ _I’m an adult!_ ” I screeched, knowing full well that I sounded anything but like an adult. “Where’s Mama, anyway?” I snapped.

“You’ve only been an adult for like five minutes!” Prim countered, her temper showing through the fear, “I have no idea where Mama is! I came out of the fitting room, and she was nowhere to be found, and that guy was just... staring.”

_Excellent!_

_Just great!_

My mind was a jumble of dark feelings and fear. Being mad was the only thing I was willing to concentrate on to keep myself from panicking, but my brain kept concocting outlandish scenarios that didn’t help an iota: _Mama got herself kidnapped. Prim was next, but now I was gonna have to be Prim’s ipso facto mother, because our mother got kidnapped! How was I supposed to live a carefree teenhood while raising my sister?_

We heard loud voices and a gathering crowd. I shoved my buggy forward, and parked it neatly beside Annie’s. The poor woman was practically folded in two, with a surprisingly still Junior, cocooned in her arms, his tiny sea-green eyes roving wide-eyed as far as he could see. 

“Take Annie towards the entrance and find either Mama, a cop, or a manager. Call Daddy!” I ordered Prim, who complied right away.

I elbowed my way into the onlookers and reached the men right when the stranger was babbling some nonsense to Peeta, while Finnick held him by the collar of his extravagantly ugly shirt.

“Just tell him, Pete! Tell him who I am! Tell him I mean no harm!”

“You were lurking around the fitting rooms, following a fourteen year old girl! Don’t dare denying it. I saw you, creep!” Finnick shook the man a little, making him cry out like a child.

“Finnick, I know this looks bad, but we need to find Lilly—“

“Yes! Find Laelia! She will tell you who I am!” 

_Wait! How did the weirdo know that name?!_

“Shut up, Flavius! I don’t know what you’re up to. You were a right headache for Lilly and Hunter back in high school, and don’t think Lilly be very happy to hear you were stalking her daughter in the fitting rooms!”

Gasps and whispers of “Pervert!” rang around the crowd.

I was still reeling at the name _Laelia;_ it was my mother’s given name, but very few people knew it. She preferred her nickname, _Lilly_ , and always introduced herself as such. 

“I swear, Pete...” The man squeaked, pitifully. “I only wanted to get a closer look of the girl... she’s so much like Laelia! After all, you can’t blame a man for wanting to meet his estranged niece, can you?” 

_His what?!?_

And with that... my mind gave up! 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First, I’m basing a lot of stuff for Gale’s Boot Camp on second hand experiences from family and friends with family in the USA Army and Navy. I don’t have any specific knowledge on Marine Corps procedures, so things may or may not be different… for most military basic training periods, the new reclutes can’t call home for a time; Boot Camp for the Marines lasts around 13 weeks, and then communication is still spotty for 5 to 6 months. The main way to keep in touch with anyone in the Armed Forces in America, is through regular mail, and because the first year or so they keep shifting them for training and to supply the needs of the corps, mail tends to wander around before reaching its destination. Phone calls have to be earned during basic training. There’s no real way to let your loved ones know when you’ll be calling them, so most people try to keep phones and landlines at hand just in case. If you have personal experience on the topic, and see any inaccuracies, please let me know, and I’ll look into changing it to match the reality closer. Thanks! 
> 
> Second: I lied! I’m sorry ☹️ I promised no more Galeniss, and a break-up, but it didn’t happen in this chapter, mainly because I jumped the gun with my timelines 🙈 (Apparently I don’t know how to count) but, good news!!! The “break-up” is already written (and partially edited)... I just need to write the stuff that goes around the scene 🙈🙈. 
> 
> More good news!!!!! Katniss is 18!!!! Yaaaaay!!! 
> 
> A word on southern speech: “Buggy” is the name people in Georgia call the shopping carts. I’m not sure they use the word in NC, but in my fic they do 😱 
> 
> _Laelia_ is an old Roman name, is the feminine form of the family name Laelius, which has no apparent meaning beyond that. There is also an orchid species with the same name. Why I chose it? Because of who her family will be in this fic, and because it’s still somewhat botanical. You are free to speculate, and I hope you like that tiny twist in the story as we explore it in the next chapters.


	8. Love Sandwich

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _Warning:_ very mild Galeniss; new characters galore; angst and hurt towards the end. Peeta struggles. Time jumps like a band of jack rabbits in this one!
> 
> Long chapter ahead. I’m sorry, but it was either this, or dragging it another chapter. By the way... **Note** that I’ve set the chapter count to 11. This count can change, but it’s a pretty solid projection.

> _My ~~beloved~~ ~~sweet~~ dear Gale,_
> 
> _You will never believe the unreal events of today!_
> 
> _My mama has siblings, and that ain’t the craziest thing!  
> _
> 
> _You should see them! They remind me of a trio of colorful birds, clucking and cawing around loudly. Flavius and Octavia are twins, two years older than Mama; he’s got curly, ginger hair and wears makeup; Octavia is plump, with a pretty face, and despite having very pretty natural auburn hair, she wears streaks of magenta in it. Venia is the eldest, she looks like she’s trying too hard, her hair is aqua color, and has golden tattoos on every visible bit of skin. Their clothes and jewelry is over the top!_
> 
> _I doubt you’d like them.  
> _
> 
> _Any-who, Mama was livid! I know she ran from home and married Daddy, but until now, I never wondered what trauma she escaped. I think it’ll be ‘interesting’ getting to know her estranged family, because apparently they want to meet all of us, even Daddy._
> 
> _Anyway, this letter won’t reach ya before we Skype… it really doesn’t matter. I just needed to vent a little, and writing you a letter seemed appropriate to let it all out._
> 
> _Wished you were here, though… you’re my best friend and I miss you bunches._
> 
> _Love, Katniss_   
>  _Xoxo_

* * *

I put the envelope with my written letter to Gale in the mailbox, and went over the events of the day, in my head.

After Flavius made the outrageous claim of being Prim’s uncle, things got… _interesting_.

Flavius truly was a weirdo with his corkscrew, orange curls, that thin layer of purple lip gloss that perhaps was meant to coordinate with his gaudy, lilac, silk shirt and trousers, and all those diamond earrings along the shell of his ears.

I knew one shouldn’t judge a book by its cover, but... the man looked absolutely certifiable!

Prim and I never knew— or thought— we had an uncle.

Daddy was an only child, and we never met Mama’s family… _well, that wasn’t actually true. There was a lady, an aunt of my mother’s, who we saw a handful of times while we were little, and then never again._

I remember Mama’s aunt dressed as ostentatious and overbright as Flavius and the other two.

I had just arrived at the conclusion that the only feature familiar, in Flavius— and I use that term _familiar_ very loosely— was the blue of his eyes; which wasn’t saying much. A big chunk of the American population has blue eyes. It was an inconsequential characteristic to prove a relation.

Mr. Finnick kept an unforgiving grip of Flavius' collar, while the man kept babbling to Peeta, “The girl is my niece! I would never hurt her! She looks so much like Laelia when she was young… I just couldn’t help myself, I thought I was seeing a ghost at first, so I followed her… I wasn’t trying to scare her or anything lurid. I swear!”

Mr. Peeta only responded with contempt and revulsion in his voice, but never in an insulting manner. He just wanted to keep Finnick from pummeling the weirdo until police arrived, but at some point, Mr. Finnick had enough, and I saw with horror, how he pulled back his arm, fist ready to meet Flavius’ face, and all the man did was cover himself with shaking hands.

The punch never landed.

Two women crashed into the crowd, wailing in despair like a pair of banshees.

“Let him go!” Said the one with the peculiar makeup… her skin looked almost green under the bright Target lights. If she was hoping to make a statement with it, all she’d managed to do, was look like a child with motion sickness after riding the flying chairs on a stomach full of fair food.

_Yuck!_

The other woman seemed to be older, but she was dressed as loudly and out of place as the other two.

Both women grappled at Finnick's arm to free Flavius.

“He’s delicate!” Cried the older one. Her 3 inch long nails dug into Finnick’s bulging bicep.

The woman had so many rings, I wondered how could she move her fingers?

Mr. Peeta— always the pacifist— weaved in and out of the mess of limbs, trying to reason with everyone.

“What’s going on in here?” Mama called out loudly, closely followed by a target manager and a very distressed Primrose.

“Go back to Annie!” I told my sister, grabbing her arm, “I’ll come get you in a minute, and let you know all the gory details!”

Annie was crouching with Finnick Jr. in her arms at the very back of the crowd.

When I turned back to Mama, Flavius was weeping like an overgrown baby. “Laelia!! Thank God!” He screeched in relief.

The women gasped too, “Laelia!” as soon as they saw Mama approaching.

Prim hesitated, “That's… Mama’s _name_!”

I knew it was a shock. “Come here,” I said, reaching to fold her into my arms. Whatever was going on, we would see it together.

“Venia. Octavia. Flavius! Explain yourselves!” Demanded Mama, sounding scary beyond reason. “I step out for a minute, and when I come back I find my daughter distressed because some creep was stalking her?!” Mama sounded so high pitched, my ears started ringing.

“Ma’am, should we call law enforcement?” The manager asked, frowning.

“What? You would call the police on your own flesh and blood, like a common criminal?!” The older one raged.

“I would call the police on anyone making my children feel unsafe! So don’t tempt me Venia, and start telling me why are you idiots harassing my child!”

The green lady gasped, “You think we’re idiots?” She wailed. “This brute here almost disfigured your brother, and you’re accusing us of harassment and calling us names?! You’ve changed Laelia!” The woman— Octavia, I deduced— sniffed, affronted.

“You were following my fifteen year old daughter into the fitting rooms! You _are_ idiots! Finnick on the other hand, is just doing me a favor, looking out for my daughters well being. It’s not his fault none of you ever learned to use common sense!”

Well I’ll be damned!

I always thought Mama was a very ditzy blonde. It turned out she practically was the sharpest knife in the cutlery drawer.

“Ma’am?” The manager cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable.

Mama sighed and shook her head. “Finn, let him go… I’m not pressing charges. He’s my brother. He is an idiot, but he’s also gay and not interested in girls,” as if his sexuality excused his behavior! Mama motioned to the women, “These are my sisters. Apparently, we have a lot to talk about, and I don’t plan to do it here, in the middle of this Target.”

After thanking the manager, Finnick and Peeta, Mama hugged Prim and I quickly, then she turned furious eyes to her siblings.

Before she could say anything else, Venia spoke, almost snidely, “Dinner at Effie’s. Tomorrow at 9 sharp. Formal wear. Bring the family.”

“I work tomorrow, and no, I cannot miss work just because you sprung a dinner invitation on me out of the blue. Effie has my phone number. She can call me to arrange another date. Now if you excuse me…”

“Wait!” Called Octavia, “Wait… will you deny us introductions to your pretty daughter?”

“ _Daughters_!” Mama hissed ferociously, “ _Plural_! And _yes_. I will deny you. You don’t turn your backs on them for eighteen years and pop up scaring them, and demanding to meet them. So… _no_ , you don’t get to talk to them without Hunter present, and after a genuine apology. From all of you. To my family.” Mama turned her back on her siblings that seemed to have shrunk at her words, and her arms wrapped around Prim and I like English vines to a brick wall.

I had never been so scared or in awed of my mother, but I was finally seeing her _badassery_ for the first time, and I truly loved it! 

She wasn’t done yet, two steps away, Mama tossed over her shoulder. “Have auntie Effie call me in two weeks times. I’ll be busy enjoying a well deserved vacation with my family until then.”

* * *

The summer before my last year of high school was unbearably hot. The humidity was probably the worst offender, it made everything sticky. Nobody’s hair looked right, and being outside felt quite literally like stepping into a sauna running at full blast.

So when Finnick Odair made good on his promise to invite us over to his property, looking out into Lake Cuatro for an afternoon in his pontoon, we packed our gear in record time! To my never ending delight, Mr. Peeta was there when we arrived.

We all exchanged greetings with each other; Daddy dropped our cooler full of drinks and snacks in the middle of the boat, Peeta made sure we had suitable life preservers on board, while “Captain” Finnick gave us a quick rundown of the pontoon and tubing rules.

A few minutes later, we all found seats in the wide lounging benches around the pontoon, and Finnick pushed from the deck with little fanfare.

Finnick Jr. decided to settle his little behind on Prim’s lap and immediately fell asleep. Prim didn’t mind holding the child one lick, but Annie fussed about it until she plucked the toddler right outta my sister’s arms, and held him in her own.

Mama rubbed Prim’s back comfortingly, whispering into her ear. The blowing wind brought me snippets of her words: “Nothing personal… nervous, especially in the water… first time mothers…”

Prim nodded and shrugged, and soon turned her face towards the rushing air and enjoyed the ride.

Ten minutes into the trip, Daddy opened the cooler, offering drinks and snacks to everyone. Mama took a _Straw-ber-rita_ can, Annie a bottle of water, Peeta took a beer, and Finnick was already stuffing his face with _MoonPies_ I suspected he kept hidden under the rudder thing he was driving the pontoon with.

Prim and I shared a _Sprite_ , and a bag of _Cheetos_ , because neither of us wanted to be too full before swimming and tubing; Prim kept eying the _MoonPies_ surreptitiously, but Mr. Finnick caught her staring and loudly asked if she wanted one, waving a pack in the air.

Mr. Peeta glared. I instantly knew one of their infamously hilarious rows over snacks was coming.

“I brought homemade cookies, profiteroles and cheesy bites,” Mr. Peeta said, twitching in his seat, poised to snatch up the offending treat before it ever reached my sister’s dainty hands.

Mr. Finnick rolled his eyes. “Of course you did,” then his sea-green eyes narrowed to slits, “although we all know the cheesy bites are specially made for one person only in this boat,”

_Oh boy!_

Mr. Peeta’s ears turned scarlet red at the accusation, “I don’t know what you’re talking about! The cheesy bites are for everyone!” He sputtered, flustered, his blue eyes shifting everywhere and nowhere in particular at once.

“Aha… meanwhile, everybody watch out for piranha teeth when you reach out for the cheesy bites. You don’t wanna lose a finger over a snack, and mark my words, certain critters won’t recognize friend from foe when cheesy bites are involved, ain’t that right _Wild Thing_?”

 _I could kill him!_

My mouth parted, my brain cogs ground desperately, but nothing came out to defend myself. I was left blinking owlishly at Mr. Finnick still taunting Mr. Peeta with that blasted _MoonPie_.

Mama started laughing, like Mr. Finnick just said the funniest thing ever instead of a mortifying jab directed at me. And Peeta, apparently.

Daddy chuckled too, nursing a beer, but it was Annie’s glare that made Finnick purse his lips and finally let go of the topic, tossing Prim her cookie sandwich.

 _Great!_ I was gonna be self conscious about the blessed cheesy bites the whole outing! _Thanks Finnick!_

We reached an isolated chunk of beach shortly after, and Mr. Finnick turned off the pontoon motors, declaring it safe to swim and frolic.

“Hunter and I will set up the tube to tow you girlies across the lake, sound okay?” Mr. Finnick said, killing the switch of the boat.

Prim clapped excitedly. She loved tubing, particularly when the ride was fast and turbulent. “Last one in the water has to clean up Buttercup’s litter box For a week!” She called out.

“Hey!” I groaned, watching my sister shucking her cover-up dress over her head and tossing it into Mama’s beach bag, carelessly.

I rushed to do the same, but unlike Prim, I was wearing shorts and a t-shirt.

Mama called Prim back to put some sunscreen on, just as I shoved my shorts down my legs. Prim whined, she knew the whole sunscreen thing would help me catch up.

I sprayed a cloud of the sunscreen on myself, as if I needed it. My skin was naturally tanned and hard to burn, but Mama was a nurse and skin cancer was still a concern, so we sunscreen regularly.

I lifted my eyes to check Prim’s progress; I sure as heck didn’t wanna get stuck cleaning up her mangy cat’s toilet! I saw with satisfaction Mama was still lathering lotion on her; I finger-combed my hair out of its braid, and tied up with the same elastic into a messy bun on top of my head.

“Bah-bye, loser!” I called to Prim, prancing across the pontoon and diving head first into the lake.

“Hey! Not fair!” I couldn’t hear the rest of Prim’s whining under the water, but I was pretty sure she bleated about it until she jumped in as well.

Prim and I swam and splashed water onto each other for a few minutes, but then I went back to the pontoon to see why nobody else was joining in.

It took me a second to climb the little ladder back onboard. It sounded like the _adults_ were getting ready to get in the water; Finnick seemed to be trying to convinced Annie that it was okay to go swimming while he sat in the boat with Junior, and my dad was saying that the water was only a handful of feet deep and that probably we could touch the bottom of the lake with our toes if we put our minds to it.

I heard Mr. Peeta’s low rumble, “Really, it’s not a big deal, I can stay onboard with Junior while you guys swim,” He wasn’t a very confident swimmer. _Poor guy!_

I finally pulled up all the way into the boat, dripping lake water everywhere.

Daddy looked up and smiled at me, “Hey, Catkin, it’s the water nice?”

I opened my mouth to gush about it, but somebody started coughing up a storm behind Daddy, creating a commotion.

Mama rushed in to help, “Are you okay?” She asked, clapping somebody’s back.

“Yes!” Mr. Peeta rasped, “Thank you… I’m sorry. Don’t worry about me.”

 _Oh no!_ I peeked around Daddy, somewhat worried. Mr. Peeta, was slumped over his bench. 

“Are you sure?” Asked Annie, bouncing a recently woken Junior on her hip, the toddler sucked on his thumb, grumpily. “You look very flushed, Peeta. Maybe you should sit under the awning and cool off for a beat.”

“Annie’s right,” Mama said, pulling a bottle of lotion out of her beach bag, “here, put some sunblock on. It's spf 50, which works okay with your complexion, but you have to reapply at least once every couple of hours. Light skin people like us don’t tan, we burn, and fast!”

“I swear, I’m okay!” Mr. Peeta protested, his eyes swiped my way for the barest of seconds, only to fleet away and shut.

“Peeta, I swear to God… you better not be having some bull crap panic attack right now!”

“Finnick Odair! You leave Peeta alone! If he doesn’t wanna swim—“

“I‘m fine!” Peeta snapped. “I just… I— I’m not _scared_!” His nervous countenance said otherwise. 

“Bud, Finnick’s just kidding ‘round. You don’t have to get in if you don’t wanna, but I bet my Catkin here can tell you, that lake ain’t that deep. Right sweetie?” Daddy smiled at me, almost imploringly.

I felt horrible for Mr. Peeta! It had to be mortifying for him to be accosted like that by his friends. He looked at Daddy, and then at me, and his eyes just shifted away so fast, it was as if he was terrified.

“Oh, the water is perfect!” I said encouragingly.

“I still think you should put in some sunscreen.” Mama said firmly, putting the bottle of lotion in his hand. “Your face is two shades away from lobster, Peeta.”

He nodded weakly, uncapping the bottle, then Mama made another comment, and his whole face turned inferno red.

“I wished I had Hunter’s skin,” she sighed, “he gets this deep tan. Like Katniss’ flawless skin, golden and luminous. Just look at her... isn’t her skin perfect?”

Another round of coughing took over poor Mr. Peeta, and then it was Mr. Finnick by his side, rubbing his back roughly, whispering something in his ear until Peeta snapped back.

“It ain’t the _water_ I’m afraid of!” He hissed.

“Then what? You think _Nessy_ will come get you?”

“This ain’t Scotland, you idiot!”

“That’ll be impressive though! Can you imagine that guy living here, in our backyard?” Finnick’s eyes grew wide with wonder. 

Peeta closed his, taking a deep, cleansing breath. Then fixed Finnick with a ‘I can’t believe I’m having to deal with this sh*t right now’ glare, “ _Nessy_ , isn’t real,” he said very slowly, the red of his cheeks receding noticeably.

Mr. Finnick gasped and rushed to cover his son’s ears. “Don’t you dare! What’s next? Are you gonna let it slip that Santa’s Elves aren’t real in front of my baby? Are you going to tell him Santa buys all his toys in bulk, online? What kind of monster are you, killing the magic out of a toddler’s world?!”

There was a moment of silence; nobody inhaled breath, too stunned to react for a second, and then I snorted a choked chuckle.

My folks snickered quietly, Annie rolled her eyes with a tired sigh, and Mr. Peeta just face palmed himself slowly.

“You’re an idiot!” Was all he said before standing up and climbing down the ladder into the water.

“You’re welcome!” Yelled Finnick over the side of the pontoon, letting go of Junior’s ears. The little boy looked even grumpier. When Finnick looked back at the rest of us, he shrugged, “What? He needed to get out of his head and face his fear. I just know what buttons to push to get the ball rolling,” he took Junior from his mother’s arms, “go swim, babe. There needs to be someone in the water to protect Nessy from the local piranhas,” He shout me an amused glance. 

I chuffed in mock offense. 

“By the way, nice suit, Piranha Girl! That orange really pops with that tan of yours Lily was bragging ‘bout!”

I looked down at myself, sure enough, sherbet orange met my eyes, and it really did pop against my olive skin.

* * *

  
“Welcome, welcome, welcome to casa de Effie, my darlings!” Said the woman I vaguely recognized as Mama’s only relation outside of Daddy, Prim and myself growing up.

Realizing that our family tree suddenly sprouted a whole new, unfamiliar branch we weren’t aware of until now, felt as rude and shocking, as jerking out of a peaceful dream by getting a bucket-full of icy water dumped on the head.

I tried not to glare at Mama— or Effie for that matter— but the temptation was very strong.

If I thought Mama’s siblings were colorful, Effie was a sensory overcharge.

She didn’t have visible tattoos, but she wore a very heavy layer of makeup on her face. Her lime green power suit was paired with a bubblegum pink, silk scarf, and the needle heels shoes she wore match her scarf perfectly. Her hair was unmistakably a wig, with streaks of lime green underlining every platinum blonde curl.

“Auntie Effie,” greeted my mother quietly, and leaned closer to give her an air kiss on each cheek. “You remember Hunter, Katniss and Primrose, right?”

“Of course!” The woman gushed, shaking hands with Daddy, and hugging me and Prim. “How could I forget such a handsome man?! And the girls! Oh dear! Both so beautiful! So grown! Come, come, dearies. Don’t dwale now, my makeup isn’t heat proof, and it is a scorcher out there! In we go!” She sang, herding us inside the mahogany and crystal double doors of her grand house.

We were led into a foyer with a crystal chandelier and an huge, gilded mirror above a matching marble table.

Effie guided us deeper into her palatial house, every room we passed more ornate than the last, and finally, she brought us out to a sunroom of sorts, except, hers housed a long table already set up for lunch, and my mother’s siblings meandered around the room.

“I hope you don’t mind the casual setting,” said Effie, as if apologizing, “But this being a luncheon, I figured we would all be alright in a more informal… _mise en scène,”_

“This is perfect, Effie. Thank you for being such a gracious host.”

“Oh, darlin’, nonsense!” She looked up at her nieces and nephew. “Now my dears, Laelia— _Lilly_ — has arrived, and introductions are in order. This handsome gentleman is Hunter Everdeen, Lilly’s husband. And right next to him is Primrose, their youngest, very precocious for what I hear. In the rear, we have beautiful Katniss, Hunter and Lilly’s eldest, who is quite the athlete and soon to be engaged to a US Marine!”

I glared at Mama for that last tidbit, but schooled my features right away, to watch the trio of birds gawking at us, as if we were the odd ones out. Maybe we were. One look around told me we looked to _normal_ to fit in with this lot. 

“Now, these are my nieces and nephew: Venia, fashion designer. She’s just relocated home after being in Milan for a handful of years. She’s planning a tour to Madrid, Paris and London this coming fall. So exciting!

“Then we have the twins, Flavius and Octavia. Flavius is an interior designer, based in California. Octavia, is three minutes younger, and recently got divorced from her plastic surgeon husband. We will see what comes next.” Effie smiled at Octavia, sweetly. “Now that we’ve all been officially introduced to one another, let’s take a sit and enjoy this delicious spread. Eat enough, my darlings, we have a full schedule to follow this afternoon, and I would like to star off with our bellies full. Tuck in!”

* * *

  
Communication with Gale was more flexible since getting assigned to Base Lejeune, but only so much. He still had lots of training and full schedules, so it wasn’t strange to get random calls every so often when he had time to spare; on rare occasions, I’d text him and ask him to set aside time for us to talk, and the first week of Senior year in high school, called for such a request.

I had been pacing my room like a caged tiger, nervously biting on my thumb nail and checking my wall clock every few minutes. My cell phone rang with his incoming video chat call, and I almost dropped the phone, trying to press the ‘accept’ button.

“Hi!” I called out excitedly.

“Hey, Catnip.” He greeted with a half smile.

“How are you? Things going well for you? Have you eaten yet? Or are you missing out on anything?”

“I’m okay, Catnip. I have plenty of time right now. What’s up?” He looked amused, which was good. He looked _good_ when he was happy, and lately, he looked like a transformed man… a _MAN_!

The notion gave me pause. My Gale had grown on me in the service, and I had no idea why that took me by surprise. He wasn’t a gangly boy from home anymore, but en USA Marine and he looked so much happier than he ever was here. It made my feel I made the right decision!

“I signed up to a dual enrollment program at school today.” I blurted our breathlessly. “I‘ll be taking college classes and getting credit for them at both schools. I figured, I’ll already have a year of college under my belt when I graduate high school in the summer, and that means less schooling time for me!” I took a ragged breath, “What do you think?” I felt giddy.

I’ve told everyone I wasn’t in a rush to get hitched, but… one less year of schooling was a year closer to what Gale and Mama kept hoping for: a wedding!

“Wow,” Gale mumbled, frowning down to the edge of the screen. A second later he looked up, “Won’t that affect your GPA and shit?”

I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, if I let it drop… but I’m not letting it drop.” I said cheekily. “I thought you’d be happy about it. It means I’ll be done with college faster.”

“I… yeah, I like the idea of being done faster, but at the same time, I don’t want you to put too much strain on your workload. I mean... you always say there’s no rush, right? Plus, you already have too much in your plate as it is,”

“I’ll be fine, Gale, I promise. And who knows… I might be able to come see you soon!”

“No!” He exclaimed, taking me aback.

“Do you not wanna see me?” I asked, half offended and half hurt.

Gale chuckled and shook his head, “You don’t have to come all the way here to have fun,” he smiled with a mischievous glint in his gray eyes, “Are you alone in your room?”

“Yeah. Why?” I asked, a tingly feeling bubbling in my stomach.

Gale shrugged, “Well, I was thinking… I’m all alone in here, and you’re all alone in there, and I was wondering… what’s under your T-shirt?” He motioned at my chest with his chin, suggestively.

“Oh…” My face burned, but I didn’t break eye contact, “wouldn’t you want to know?” My fingers dropped to fiddle with the hem of my shirt, wondering if that was really going where I thought it was?

Gale smiled, showing teeth, “I would. Very much!”

”Okay,” I smiled back.

* * *

The day before Thanksgiving, Hazelle asked me to please pick her up a frozen turkey, which was an inconvenience to me, really.

Prim, Mama, and I were binging on _The Crown_ , stuffing our faces with caramel popcorn and apple cider. As I dragged myself to get dressed, I tried to convince myself that it was okay, Hazelle seldom asked for favors, unless she was in a pickle and I helped mostly for the kids.

The weather was nice out, chilly, but dry. Autumn colors still hung to the trees. I decided to wear skinny jeans, a tunic sweater, my trusty uggs, and a fluffy scarf Mama knitted for me. On my way out, I grabbed Daddy’s old leather jacket, just in case.

My mood soured when I saw the parking lot full to the gills. Last minute shoppers ran around like headless chickens getting ready for the holidays. I had to drive around the lot thrice to park… and then, an old lady actually _flipped me off_ for not letting her take the parking space I waited for so long.

If the outside was packed, inside was like I imagine a can of sardines feels like.

I was lucky to find a handbasket by the doors, but realized it’d been sitting there because the handle was broken. I huffed a breath and elbowed my way to the meat section, praying to The Lord Almighty, at least one turkey was spared.

A text pinged in my phone, and I groaned when I saw the message from Hazelle asking for a can of cranberry sauce, and a bag of mini marshmallows.

 _How was I supposed to hold all of that stuff in my bare hands?!_ Every buggy in the store was taken! I didn’t even have pockets to at least hold the cans in. And, did I have enough money on me to pay for everything?

I resented Hazelle by the time I made it across the grocery store and saw the container in the middle of the aisle, boasting ‘Turkey $1.35 lb’, my heart sank. The cooler seemed empty, when only yesterday was overflowing.

A fight broke in the next aisle over the last can of French cut green beans. I seriously never understood how shopping on a day one is supposed to be grateful for what we have, could bring out the worst in people… simply appalling behavior!

To my surprise, a 12 lb turkey remained unclaimed at the very bottom of the fridge; I reached for it, but my fingers barely grazed the loop of the bag. My thoughts warred, _It’s as well! The bird’s prolly tainted with salmonella or something. Nobody wanted that useless basket by the door because it was broken, maybe something’s wrong with this turkey too. I’d just tell Hazelle they were out... But... the children won’t have thanksgiving dinner without it!_

With an image of Posy’s disappointed face swimming in my head, I dove into the deep cooler, only to find I couldn’t pull myself out of it. I started wiggling backwards, like a inchworm to no avail. I was contemplating standing inside the blasted fridge, and then hop out when a pair of big, warm hands closed around my rib cage, and pulled me out effortlessly.

As if to add insult to injury, the heavy turkey I was still clinging on for dear life, was cleanly plucked out of my hands, and put into a nearly empty buggy besides me.

“Hey, jackass! What’s the big idea?!” I turned to face the turkey thief, ready to fight over my trophy, like it was a can of French cut green beans.

“Whoa!” A pair of brows arched above familiar blue eyes. “Nice to see you too, Miss K.” His sideways smile was boyish, sweet, and completely disarming.

“Um… Hi?”

“Let’s start again?” I nodded dumbly, “How do you do, miss K?”

“I’ve been better.” I mumbled. “I almost decked you for stealing my bird. I became what I despised.” 

“I bet. I want trying to keep the turkey, though, I always figured Hunter was the type to put his own catch on the table for Thanksgiving,”

“He is,” I dismissed it with a hand gesture. “This one’s for Hazelle,”

“Well, she’s lucky. I think that’s the last bird in the store.” He looked up and around. “Are you done shopping, or is there anything else you need?”

I looked down at his cart, he had two bottles of wine, a block of some fancy cheese, and a bag of grapes. “You had a whole buggy just for these?”

Mr. Peeta smiled. “The thing about being nice to little old ladies, is that they let you keep the buggies if you help them put their groceries in their cars.” He winked.

I shook my head ruefully, then snorted a giggle. “Right.” After a moment, I said, “I need mini marshmallows for a sweet potato casserole, and a can of cranberry sauce.”

Of course, he wrinkled his nose at the sound of canned sauce, but all he said was, “Let’s go then.”

We squeezed between shoppers and picked up the rest of my list. He grabbed a pack of Tylenol, and we got into the unbelievably long line to pay.

“So… are you having Thanksgiving with the Hawthornes? Is Gale home?” Mr. Peeta pawed at his neck uncomfortably.

The question took me aback, “Um… no. We’re having Thanksgiving at home, although Mama invited her aunt Effie, and strange as it sounds, also Mr. Abernathy, to dinner. Gale won’t get leave until Christmas, maybe.” _Big maybe._

Mr. Peeta chuckled, “Sounds like Lilly for sure.”

“What’s that?” I asked, confused.

“Nothing… That’s good though, that your mother is patching things up with Effie. From all that family, Effie’s perhaps the only one who supported your mother’s choice.” We stopped talking because it was finally our turn to pay, and then we had a little — heated— _debate_ about him picking up the bill for the both of us, which he won, because I barely had money in my wallet for the cranberry sauce and the bag of marshmallows. That would’ve been a lost trip for sure. 

While Peeta dealt with his credit card and the pay pad, the cashier leaned closer and whispered to me, “Y’all are cute together,” the girl looked to be about ten minutes older than me, with a pixie style haircut and a tattoo of an axe on her forearm.

I looked up, scowling in confusion. The girl smirked and winked. “It’s okay, hun… we all wished we had an older _boyfriend_ taking care of us.” She whispered conspiratorially.

“He ain’t my boyfriend!” I protested, escandalizad.

The girl turned her brown, wide set eyes to Mr. Peeta an gave him an appreciative once over. “Sure, dear… I stand _that_ close to guys I’m not into, and bat my lashes at them the same way you do when they stare at my ass too!” She stood back and handed the bagged groceries to me, with an impish smile.

My mouth fell open, but Peeta was already next to me, grabbing the turkey off the counter to put in his buggy. The cashier turned to the next customer, winking at me.

_The gall of the girl!_

“Ready?”

I startled at Mr. Peeta’s voice, and nodded, because I was still worked up about the cashier’s wild assumptions. _Who did she think she was?! Peeta wasn’t staring at my ass!!!_

Was he?

“So… how's school going?” Mr Peeta asked while I led us back to Francine.

“Really good, actually. I’m loving the college classes, and since I’m done with all my high school requirements, I’m transferring the rest of my stuff to the college full time starting in January.”

“Wow! That’s awesome, Miss K! I’ve always said you were the smartest young lady in the county… possibly the whole state!”

I laughed softly, pleased with his exaggerated praise. “Yeah, well, you should tell that to Gale. He ain’t very happy about it. He thinks that I’m putting too much pressure on myself. That I don’t need to rush things, which is weird, since six months ago he was all against me going to college at all. I mean… I’m gonna have to quit my job at the candy shop and figure somethin’ else out… but, I’m excited!”

I missed the scowl on Mr. Peeta’s face, “I’m sure you can do anything you put your mind to. And your folks will help too, you know.” We finally found Francine. Mr. Peeta already had the turkey for me. “So… are things with you and the Hawthorne boy… um… gettin’ serious?” He coughed twice.

I shrugged. “It’s pretty much a given deal, I believe. I mean, we ain’t getting engaged or anything yet, but it won’t take long after graduation, I don’t think.”

Mr. Peeta nodded, his eyes on the ground, “Well, I’m your baker when you’re ready to shop for wedding cakes. Your engagement cake too. Um… my treat!”

I frowned. “I can’t accept that, sir. Gale would throw a fit.”

Peeta waves me off, “I won’t give you a wedding gift if that evens things out,”

“Maybe we should start with a graduation cake first?” I said mildly irritated. That conversation was rubbing me the wrong way. “Thank you for such a generous offer, though.”

“If I’m being honest... I have this sweet spot for you Everdeens. You’ll be doing me a favor, if you let me make your cakes.” 

I sighed, stuffing everything in the cabin of my truck. “You’re too sweet for your own good, you know that, right?” 

Mr. Peeta smiled and nodded, he pushed his buggy away, “Have a happy Thanksgiving, Miss K.”

“You too!”

I watched him go. I saw him pick up his bags to give his cart to a woman with three little kids, and walked the rest of the way to his car, across the lot.

I didn’t know what that dumb cashier was talking about, Mr. Peeta wasn’t the kind of man to be checking my ass out! 

* * *

  
In January, I was taking all of my classes at college on a full schedule. _It was brutal!_

Mama and Daddy weren’t all that happy I quit my job at the candy shop, but school was almost an hour drive away from home, and I had lots to study in order to keep my grade point average consistent. I promised my folks I’d looked for a job near campus, since I was there either in class or at the library doing homework. It took me only a week to secure a spot at the tiny Student Union, which led me back to Johanna, the obnoxious cashier from the grocery store back home.

“Hey! Do I know you?” The girl asked me on my first day working the student’s shop counter.

I recognized her right away of course, despite her hair being all spiky, and the lip piercing I was sure she didn’t have in November. _W_ _as it a fake ring, or was it a new addition to her face?_

“Not really.” I said, going back to my previous task of wiping down a coke spill from the previous student I had to help.

“But you look so familiar, though… it’s fucking with my concentration. And since my head doctor said to not keep shit bottled up inside, well, I had to come over and find out where the hell I know you from, so I can go back to work in peace.”

I blinked at her, completely and absolutely dumbfounded by everything she‘d said. _Who talks about_ head doctors _that anyway?_

“Hmmm… I’m Katniss… Everdeen. I live in Panem. I buy groceries at—”

“That’s it! You’re the brainless girl not banging the mature hunk!” I cringed at her loud outburst, “Johanna Mason!” She dove across my counter and snatched my hand I a rather hard shake.

_Ouch!_

“N-not so loud, please!” I hissed, my eyes flitting around the small shop, but none of the other people there seemed to pay us any mind.

“What? Nobody cares if you’re fucking an older guy. At least as long as he’s not faculty here,”

“I’m not… romantically or otherwise involved with the gentleman from the store. And would you _please_ lower your voice?” I whispered harshly.

“Fine!” Johanna rolled her eyes, “If you’re not banging him, could you give me his number? I’m in dire need of a Sugar Daddy myself, and I wouldn’t mind a hot middle age dude like him to dance the _horizontal Lambada,_ if you catch my drift!”

I was speechless! Scandalized! I had no idea what a _lambeda_ was, but it sounded dirty! I was jealous and out of my depth! “I will never—!”

Johanna laughed loudly, “Aww, sugar… you truly are brainless! I’m just playing you, dum-dum. Hey, what time does your shift end? I need a ride back to Panem, and I was thinking of giving you the honor to drive me back!”

I wanted to refuse, tell her to go away and never speak to me again, instead, I drove her to her grandma’s place just a mile down my house, and thus was born one of the sturdiest, most unusual and all around bizarre friendships in the whole wide world.

* * *

Senior Prom was held sometime in the middle of April, a full month before graduation. I already knew Gale wouldn’t be able to make it home for it, so Madge being the great BFF she was, had the idea of going together, without dates, and having a fabulous night just the two of us, like much of our school career. At the last minute, we decided to bring Prim and her best friend, Rue, as our ‘plus one’s, since they were high school freshmen and we symbolically passed the baton on to them. We truly made it a girls night out for the four of us.

Daddy volunteered to chaperon the dance, after Mama pestered him for days. But it was okay. I didn’t mind Daddy there, plus Prim made him swear he’d stay a non intrusive ways away, while we danced and mingled with our peers.

I had the greatest time ever, to be honest. I wouldn’t change the experience for anything in the world, and I considered myself lucky, for me, prom night went down in history as one of the best memories of high school!

* * *

“Catnip! Hi! Can you hear me?”

“Yes! I hear you!”

“Hey, the connection is terrible here… I can’t hear shit… Anyway, I’m calling to let you know they denied my request to come out for your graduation… I’m sorry!”

“Oh… I’m sorry too. Um, when will you be able to come home? Or… maybe... maybe I could come see you?”

“Catnip? You’re cutting off! The sound’s all choppy and garbled.”

“Gale! I’m here! I was saying—“

“Hey, I think I’m just gonna try calling you back this weekend, okay?”

“I… yeah, sure—“

“Okay! Good! Talk to you soon Cat—“

The call dropped. Just like my mood.

Gale didn’t call that weekend, nor the one after that. Or the one after.

* * *

Graduation day was hotter than a hibachi grill griddle.

My red robes were sticking to my arms and shoulders uncomfortably, and I cursed wordlessly the sleeveless dress I wore underneath. The twenty medals and honors I had to wear around my neck weren’t helping one bit, nor the stuffy Salutatorian collar between the medals and the robe. 

For the first time in my life, I splurged in a dress that nobody could see, because it was hidden under the graduation robes and all the other decorations pressing on my chest. I was raging mad with myself about the dress, because being angry with Gale for not being there was out of the question! 

The dress in question was pale yellow, empire cut, reaching just below my knees. It had crystals scattered around the loose skirt that gave the illusion of candlelight every time I moved. I’d be lying if I said I bought it with Gale in mind, but I wanted him to see me in it, and his stupid commander wouldn’t give him leave to be at my graduation! It was his fault, really. 

Hazelle and the kids attended in his place, which was a small consolation.

The ceremony was supposed to start at 5:00 in the School’s football field; No one was surprise when a swarm of mosquitos descended upon the graduates in the sidelines, like a Las Vegas all inclusive buffet.

Madge bumped my shoulder with hers, “Arms out, shut your eyes.” She commanded, and I hadn’t closed my eyes all the way when she started spraying bug repellent on me. 

I coughed, “Where did you get that?” I asked exasperated. 

“Leeg twins. They were spraying each other over there. I promised to invite them to my pool party tomorrow in exchange for mosquito protection.” 

“You evil genius, you! But now I reek of bug spray,” I whined.

“At least it’s not raining.” Countered Madge, handing me the can of spray to return the favor.

“True.”

We got called to take our places, to start the march to our seats. 

I sighed, “I wished we were walking together. They should let us choose our walking buddies...”

”Mmm,” Madge fixed my Salutatorian collar straight. “You should’ve changed your last name, like I suggested in third grade... I knew this was gonna happen one day!”

”Why did _I_ have to change my name?”

Madge shrugged. “Just saying... Smile! You don’t wanna appear scowling in all your graduation pictures, would you?!” She blew me a kiss before going back to her spot, next to our resident meathead jock, Cato Van Acker.

_Ugh! I hated alphabetical order!_

My walking mate was not much better. Caesar Flickerman, was loud, flamboyant and an aspiring entertainer… if anyone asked me, I’d say he was most likely to become a show host of some kind. At least he wasn’t giving me lascivious stares like Cato was giving poor Madge, way in the back of the procession.

Up in the bleachers, I could see Aunt Effie and Mr. Abernathy sitting next to Mama, Daddy, Prim and Rue. I started suspecting there was some kind of relationship between my aunt and the grumpy hermit, but their bickering was honestly confusing; they either hated each other’s guts or were desperately in love… I couldn’t tell.

I was 99% sure the couple chasing the toddler up and down the stairs were Annie and Finnick. I smiled at that, secretly hoping they had another baby soon, just to see how much more chaotic things could get.

Hazelle and the kids sat in the row behind my family. Almost all of my loved ones were there.

Yet… it felt like something was missing.

I waved at the bleachers when I walked in front of my folks, and then I saw Mr. Peeta, jogging up the steps, carrying balloons and a bakery box in his hands.

My heart skipped a beat.

I chuckled out loud, and turned my eyes to the front, where my future waited, beyond the podium, and the diploma, and the expectations. Whether Gale was there to watch me give a speech, collect my certificate, or throw my cap into the air, that moment was mine, and it would follow me for the rest of my life! 

* * *

  
Johanna started dropping in at my house on a regular basis. The girl was crass and a little wild, but once I got to know her, she was actually a very good person. Her tough exterior didn’t reflect the resilient, loyal, big hearted girl Jo was inside. She had seen much sorrow before her 21st birthday, yet she was lively and stubborn. My sister loved her, and so did my mother. She scared Daddy a little though, which we all found funny. 

One lazy afternoon, a few days into summer brake, we were in my bedroom, watching Demetri Martin on Netflix. Prim had a crush on the comedian, but Johanna found his dead pan delivery hysterical for whatever reason. Why the girl was practically double over on the floor, laughing at some lame play-on-word joke about swimming. Don’t get me wrong, Demetri was funny, but Jo’s reaction was a little over the top.

My cell phone rang, showing an unexpected video call from Gale.

I gasped and picked up my device quickly, shushing everyone to no avail.

Johanna made cat-call noises, closely followed by a whipping motion and hiss. I scowled at her, and left the room, pressing the button to accept the call.

“Gale?”

“Hi, Catnip.” He sounded stiff, as usual.

“What a pleasant surprise!” I smiled, “I wasn’t expecting a call from you today. What’s up?!”

Gale inhaled, heavily. “Nothing much. Everything’s… _okay_. How about you?” He pursed his lips, chewing the inside of his mouth. 

“Great! I was just watching a comedian on Netflix, I think you’ll like him. Demetri Martin? Have you heard of—“

“So, Catnip... I’m calling, because…” he took a shaky breath, “You see...”

“Gale, what’s wrong?” I asked slowly, uneasy.

“Nothing! nothing’s wrong. Everything is good!”

“You said that already,” I chuckled, thinking he needed levity to relax. 

“Yeah, I did, didn’t I?” His eyes started roaming all over the place, never stopping on me, “Well, not everything is good. Not that anything is _wrong_ either! But... look, this isn’t gonna be easy, and I hate I’m not there to tell you this in person, but time is of the essence... so here it goes,” he licked his lips nervously, looking up at me for a moment, “Something happened.”

“Okay.” I said evenly, when a solid minute had come and gone without another word from him. 

My mind was racing, picturing scenarios in my head of what could get Gale so rattled. Maybe he got his thumb caught on a piece of equipment and lost it, and now he couldn’t be a Marine anymore. Maybe he bought an engagement ring and accidentally sent it to my house before proposing properly, and he was mortified about it. Maybe it was that a Posy sent me roses again or something equally silly. The possibilities were endless, and they didn’t necessarily have to be anything catastrophic, I told myself. “What happened?”

“Catnip… I— I made a mistake.” He swallowed, “I slept with someone.”

The pain was immediate and acute.

“Oh!” I breathed out slowly. 

Gale stuttered on a breath, “I’m not gonna lie to you, Catnip, it happened more than once, and I hate myself for it. You didn’t deserve that…”

 _No, I didn’t._ “It’s… It’s okay, Gale. Y-you came clean to me, and… um… we can, go from here… fix it, maybe?” I said, numbly.

“No, Catnip… we can’t,” his voice broke. “We can’t fix it. We can’t work on it… it’s done!”

A tear rolled down my cheek. “Gale it was a mistake, you said it yourself.”

“She’s pregnant!” He blurted our.

I think some sort of squeak escaped me then. 

Gale wasn’t done, “I called to break up with you. I’m sorry. I know it’s fucked up and unfair to you Catnip, but you see, I’m gonna be a father, and I need to do the right thing by my child, and the right thing... is letting you go.”

 _Who does the right thing by me?_ I wanted to screech at him. My throat was dry and scratchy.

“I’m so sorry, Catnip... It wasn’t supposed to be like this! I love _you_ , more than anything, but—“

“It’s fine, Gale!” I cut him off, hurting too much to keep listening. Later I’d torture myself with his words repeating on a loop in my mind, but at that moment, all I wanted was for him to stop talking! “I get it. You have to be there for your baby now. I understand.”

“Catnip,“

“Goodby, Gale.”

“Cat—“ I pressed _End_ before he could call me that stupid nickname again.

I stood there, arms akimbo and staring without seeing, wondering why did my legs felt so heavy? My phone fell out of my hand at some point, and I only noticed because a small body bent down to pick it up from the floor, while a set of skinny arms wrapped around me from behind, squeezing like a vice.

“Do we hate Gale now?” My sister asked meekly, her face smashed against my shoulder blade. That’s where I lost it completely, dissolved into hysterical sobs.

Johanna’s arms pulled me into her chest. “Yes, Primy, we hate that bastard now!” My brain was incapable of forming coherent thoughts still, but it didn’t matter; I had people to curse Gale for me. “It’s okay, Brainless, we’ve got you. We’re gonna hold you in this love sandwich until you’re done crying, okay?”

I nodded.

“You cry all you want, Prim and I aren’t going anywhere,”

“And then... we will raid the fridge for that pint of rocky road we’re not supposed to eat before supper, yeah?”

No intelligent response came out of my mouth, but I hugged them both tighter to me. As far as I knew, there was no better place in the world at the moment, but inside the protection of my love sandwich.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Small outtake from the scene in Target:_ “Peeta grabbed the buggy with the Everdeen’s stuff and watched Finnick hug his wife and son. They all walked to the registers but the Odairs decided to leave without buying anything. Lilly refused to make a second trip to the store, so she paid for their stuff. Peeta escorted them to their car, and watched them leave. He then texted Hunter with an abbreviated explanation of the events so he’d be waiting for them. He went to Odairs afterwards, made them dinner and shared a beer with Finnick after Annie and Junior went to bed.” This didn’t fit the storyline, but it was too persistent in my head to let it go.
> 
> Tubbing is a recreational activity where an individual rides on top of an inner tube, either on water, snow, or through the air. The tubes themselves are also known as "donuts" due to their shape. Tubing on a lake consists on hooking up the donut to a boat to be towed. Riders can often become airborne while passing over wake from the motor boat.
> 
> MoonPies are two graham like cookies, sandwiching a marshmallow filling and dipped in flavored coating. The most popular one has to be chocolate dipped.
> 
> SPF stands for sun protection factor, but it specifically indicates protection against the ultraviolet B (UVB) rays that cause sunburn. My husband is convinced that the different grades stop actually being effective at 30 spf... but what does he know? He still buys the 70 spf.
> 
> A dual enrollment program, as Katniss describes it, allows a High School student (normally with a high GPA and usually taking AP classes) to take college classes during their last couple of years of high school. Grades are simultaneously credited for both schools, and depending on when you enrolled, there have been cases where the student graduates from a two year college program, earning an Associates degree, before getting a high school diploma... My husband was one of those people who graduated both schools the same year. Normally students go back for a more in-depth degree, but with a tremendous head start.
> 
> GPA stands for grade point average, which is the sum of a student's grade points in class. In the USA, the highest GPA you can get is 5.0, but a 4.5 can get you in any good college you apply to. Katniss has a 4.8 gpa in this fic, because she’s a very smart cookie. 
> 
> In the United States, Student Union often refers to a physical building owned by the university with the purpose of providing services for students. This building is also referred to as a student activity center. There’s usually a shop or cafe of some sort in this building.
> 
> “Horizontal Lambada” is a term my friend mega-aulover uses as a euphemism for sex... in case you were wondering 🤣 the Lambada is a very suggestive type of dance hailing from Brazil, popular in the late 80’s in Latin America. 
> 
> _Salutatorian and High school honors._ Back in the day, in the US a high school degree was enough for a person to find a relatively good job and make a living out of it... not so much anymore. Still, high school graduations remain more prominent than university level ones, and there’s a boatload of pomp and protocol surrounding High School graduations, for starters, honor students get recognized and awarded prizes for any number of things and activities they did during their high school career, those usually help when applying for higher education, and they get to physically show them off as medals, pins and other adornments on their graduation robes and caps. 
> 
> Katniss is her class _Salutatorian_ , this means she had the second highest GPA in her class. A salutatorian gets to “salute” the graduates and faculty through a speech at the beginning of the ceremony. The student with the highest GPA in the class is called Valedictorian, and gives the graduation speech on behalf of the class, officially claiming their certificates.


	9. D12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Warning:** Underage drinking (if you’re from the US), allusion/reference to sex toys; reference to sexual kinks. No actual sex is depicted... yet
> 
> Peeta will be at wits end in this one, so pray for him, will ya?! 🤣

My feet swung from the tall stool I sat on, my flip-flop dangled precariously from my big toe while I giggled mindlessly at whatever the guy who bought me the beer was saying. I wouldn’t know if he was funny at all, but that was my first beer ever, and I was feeling mighty happy, mind cottony and warm all over…a good change from the rotten, depressed mood I’d been in as of late.

_I liked it!_

“Hey, you wanna get out of here?” The man asked, invading my personal space; his hand squeezed my thigh, his middle finger grazed the frills of my jean cutoffs.

It was fine, the music was loud, and my vision was becoming hazy. My inhibitions had been systematically shutting down and a change of scenery would be welcomed.

I was about to agree, my concentration scattered, but then a familiar bear-of-a-man walked into the bar, looking like a thunderstorm brewing in the horizon.

Mr. Peeta spotted me almost immediately, and made a beeline my way, stomping like an angry buffalo about to ram into a predator.

A Cheshire Cat smile unfurled on my face. I kinda knew Mr. Peeta frequented D12, but that wasn’t the reason I went there in the first place. I took it though, I was feeling bold and brave with that liquid courage cursing through my system!

“Heeeeey, you!” I slurred in a saccharine tone, waving at him with the grace of a deflated Mylar balloon.

Mr. Peeta frowned at me, pursing his lips.

“Let’s go.” He demanded.

“Get lost, loser! Can’t you see Sugar Lips and I are busy?” Beer guy growled.

 _Oops!_ Totally forgot he was there. Weird, since his claw was still firmly digging into my thigh.

Mr. Peeta’s eyes dipped to the offending hand, his face turned a dangerous shade of red; then, he grabbed Beer Guy by the scruff and spun him around to face him, as if he was manhandling a rag doll instead of a grow man, “I suggest you take your filthy paws off the lady, and walk away, right now!” He growled ferally into the guy’s face.

I’ve never seen him acting like that before! It was the most exciting thing that ever happened to me!

“What’s your problem, asshole? Can’t get a date of your own, so you have to come steal mine?” Sneered Beer Guy.

Veins bulged on Peeta’s temples and neck; his nostrils flared, his hands close into fists, he pulled Beer Guy away from me so fast, I almost lost balance.

“The lady’s got a name, ‘ _asshole_ ’! And since you didn’t bother to learn it, you don’t even get to breathe the same air as her! Now beat it, before I decorate your face with a few purple blooms!”

“Oooh…You’re gonna get iiiiit…” I taunted under my breath, “better do as he says, dude, Mr. P is a wrestling champ,” I sing-songed in a jeering tone, but one glare from Mr. Peeta shut me up, and I sat straighter on the stool, like a good little girl.

“Yeah? I'd like to see you try, old timer!”

I gasped,

_Oh no, he didn’t!_

“Hey _asshole_!” I stumbled out of my stool, and jumped on Beer Guy’s back like a monkey, hitting the back of his neck with the bottom of my fists, wishing for something heavier and harder. “He. Is not. Old!” Each punch landed with a word.

“Ge’off me, you crazy bitch!” The jackass yelled, spinning in a circle, trying to throw me off. “Get!”

I’m not quite sure how it happened, but Mr. Peeta bear-hugged me off the guy’s back like I was a misbehaved Chihuahua.

I threw kicks and punches into the air. Mr. Peeta practically tossed me into an empty booth and in one fluid motion, threw his fist in a flying arch, straight into the guy's mouth.

“That’s what you get… _asshole_!” I called loudly, enjoying the fact I was using such foul language in public for the first time ever!

I tried extracting myself from the booth, but my muscles were slow and clumsy with beer. I was missing a flip flop, but I hardly noticed.

“Crazy wench! You can have her gramps, she ain’t even that hot!” Beer Guy sputtered from where he landed on the floor. His bottom teeth tinged with his own blood.

An offended little gasp escaped me.

“I’ll teach you some manners!” Peeta growled, lunging at him.

Beer Guy shielded his head, rolling into fetal position, but the punch never landed.

Old man Abernathy materialized out of nowhere, and pushed my ‘baker in shining armor’ backwards.

“What the fuck, Boy?!” Abernathy boomed.

“He deserves it!”

“You’re a lunatic, son of a bitch!” Cried Beer Guy from the floor, “I didn’t do shit to anybody, and this son of bitch just socked me for no goddamn reason! Imma press charges, on him and the crazy bitch—“

“She’s 19, you fuck!” Mr. Peeta’s foot would’ve made contact with Beer Guy’s ribs, if Abernathy hadn’t pushed him back again with all his might.

“19? So what? She legal,” slurred the idiot, trying to stand up.

“You bought her beer, you jackass! She’s still a fucking minor when it comes to alcohol!” Peeta roared, enraged.

A small gathering of people helped Abernathy hold Mr. Peeta back.

“Hey, I can't help it if a bimbo lies ‘bout her age to get my ‘ttention! She walked in here looking for a good time with a man that could satisfy her, and she found me!”

I’d finally crawled out of my booth-cage, and ran for the asshole myself. I would’ve left some pretty scratches on his face too, but Mr. Peeta managed to grab the back of my flannel, and yanked me backwards, on my drunken bottom.

It didn’t matter, I still had a smart mouth and the universal knowledge that words hurt worse than fists. “Ha! You wished, loser! As if I’d turn to look at you twice!” I snorted an unflattering laugh, “The ‘old timer’s’ got a better chance of getting into my pants than you’d ever will, jerk!”

“Why you little bitch!” Beer Guy tried to come at me…

That time, when Mr. Peeta lunged, Abernathy lifted his hands off him, releasing him to do as he pleased.

A loud hullabaloo broke out, other patrons pulled Mr. Peeta off the jerk on the floor, after he took a satisfying swing.

I hadn’t realized we’d gathered such a big audience! Of course, mortification over the incident wouldn’t come until the next day.

Abernathy picked up Beer Guy by the scruff, righting him back on his feet; the fellow was at the bar alone, so Abernathy turned the man bodily, to face the exit, and shoved him forward, muttering as he went, “Outta my bar, you dumb fuck!” Two paces out, Abernathy yelled over his shoulder to the bartender to call a cab, then kept muttering at Beer Guy, “You’re about two seconds to get your lights turned out, and you keep running your mouth, like your brain don’t work right!”

The guy muttered an answer, but I didn’t catch it.

“Buh-bye!” I slurred, mockingly, waving goodbye at my would be companion from my safe spot behind Mr. Peeta’s wide back.

Country music started blaring on the overhead speakers, and everyone went back to mind their own business. The altercation was sorted out and done with.

Some of the patrons— the older ones mostly— glared at me as they went back to either playing darts, pool or sitting at the bar to nurse their drinks. They probably recognized me, since everyone knew my folks; I could only guess at what they were thinking, probably wondering how I ended in a dark bar, being groped by a stranger for all to see.

In the back of my mind, I was vaguely aware of the embarrassment over my atrocious behavior heading my way, on the tails of the Mother of all hangovers; but I was fuming about Beer Guy, which felt like the only emotion safe to feel, so I concentrated on it. 

“The nerve of that ASSHOLE!” I screamed at the top of my lungs, earning a glare from Abernathy who just sidled up to us.

Mr. Peeta gripped my arm, and spun me to face him. He was angrier than a swarm of bees.

“What were you thinking?!” He demanded bluntly. “I ‘bout lost it when I saw that douchebag's hands all over you. Do you have any idea how dangerous it is for any girl to get tipsy, alone in a bar? And that’s another thing! How’d you even get past the bouncer? Wait! I don’t wanna know! You could’ve gotten Haymitch and yourself into a heap of trouble! You’re smarter than this, Katniss!”

“I just wanted a beer, geez!” I shrugged him off, mildly annoyed. I was too buzzed to summon the strength to be pissed off at him too.

Mr. Peeta’s arms flailed up and down, like he couldn’t decide how best to rage at me. “Y-You can’t drink beer!” He screeched after a handful of seconds floundering. “You’re a kid!”

“I am not!”

“You’re underage!”

“I’m 19!”

“The law says you can’t drink alcohol until you’re 21! Everyone knows that!”

“I was thirsty!” I yelled, brattily.

Mr. Peeta rubbed his face harshly with one hand, then opened his mouth to counter what I just said, but Abernathy decided he’d had enough.

“Boy, take little Miss feisty pants home. I can’t have a fucking minor in my bar right now.” _Well… shit!_ I didn’t know Abernathy worked, let alone _owned_ the freaking D12 bar! “And here…see that this gets back to its rightful owner.”

I hissed, watching Johanna’s driver’s license pass from Abernathy’s fingers, straight into the chest pocket of Peeta’s checkered shirt.

I whipped around, “You narked on me!” I was spitting mad. “I can’t believe you! I won’t stand for this! Effie will hear about 4th of July, old man! How you were so skunked, you puked on Mrs. Seeder’s hydrangeas without apologizing! I’ll tell her every gory detail!”

“Go ahead, Sweetheart! Effie knows who and what I am, and she doesn’t give a rat’s ass! Now get out of my bar, before we all get busted! And Boy! We’ll have words later.”

Mr. Peeta nodded curtly, I couldn’t tell for sure under the ghastly dim lights in the bar, but I thought the baker was blushing.

Mr. Peeta took my elbow, gentler than before, and half guided, half supported me out of the bar. The change in temperature was drastic, stepping out of the nice air conditioned watering hole, and into the stifling July heat. I could literally feel vapor rising from the concrete beneath my feet, winding around my bare legs.

_Mmm, I bet wearing Marine’s Blues in North Carolina in summer was murder!_

A malicious little giggle escaped my throat. _Gosh, I really hoped Gale’s balls melted into the inseam of his crotch, and that he had to walk with a wedgie for the rest of the night in his formal suit._

Mr. Peeta watched me impassively, though I still could feel exasperation radiating from him.

I stepped clumsily, “Huh! I’m missing a shoe,” I observed, peering down at my feet, glad Mr. Peeta was still holding my elbow, because the world suddenly lurched sideways, and I had trouble staying upright.

“Goddammit!” He grunted under his breath, bringing his cell phone out and typing something on it rather aggressively. “Gimme your keys,” he demanded, slipping his phone back in his pocket, giving me no room to argue.

_Drat!_

“You can’t drive Francine…she doesn’t know you!” I whined, handing over my keys anyway.

Peeta scooped me up in his arms, making me yelp, “Well,” he heaved, setting out to find my car, “you’re incapacitated to drive her in your current state, so there!” He sounded irritated.

It didn’t take him long to find my truck and open the passenger side door for me, leading me into the cabin like I was some dang china doll.

“Why are you doing this?” I blurted out, darting from the open door, under his helping arm, to stand a foot away, like a feral cat about to pounce.

A flash of hurt crossed his eyes, but he masked it quickly into an impassive expression. “I care about you,” he said evenly. “I’ve known you since you were in your mother’s belly. I saw you grow into an incredible young lady, and hell if I’m gonna let some opportunistic scumbag paw at you—“ he cut himself off, nostrils flaring; once he calmed himself a tad, he continued, “I couldn’t let that man take advantage of you. You're drunk and heartbroken—“

“I ain’t heartbroken!” I shouted, “I’m pissed off!” I folded my arms over my chest and sulked.

We stared at each other for a second. Mr. Peeta sighed, “Being pissed off is natural, Katniss,” he dragged out the words, exhausted. “Ain’t nothing wrong with being angry. In fact, I’d be more worried if you were feeling any differently.” He shook his head, “You can hate, and rage, and try to get even. All that is fine in small doses. But getting shitfaced on your own, in a bar full of creeps? Well, Gale Hawthorne isn’t worth your safety, Katniss, no matter how badly he wronged you,”

He wasn’t being condescending, let alone combative, but I was angry, and wanted to pick a fight anyway. “I don’t appreciate you coming here and butting in my business! You ain’t my _father_ , Peeta Mellark!”

His lips parted, his face stricken as he processed my words. “You’re right,” he said, calmly, after a long minute, “I’m not your father. Not even close. But I’m who you’ve got right now, and you’re gonna have to make do with me for a beat, unless you really wanna wait for Hunter to come home and deal with you himself?” His voice was stern.

I didn’t want Daddy to see me drunk and fading like a sappy mess.

Maybe Mr. Peeta was onto something with his shitfaced speech. My train of thought hadn’t even left the station, and it was running on half fuel…it wouldn’t kill me to listen to reason and comply, right?

“No,” I said morosely, “you’ll do just fine.” I hitched up my bare foot and coiled it around my opposite leg to stand like a flamingo.

“Then I advise you to get in the truck!” Mr. Peeta chided.

I glared at him. He might’ve been right, but I was still annoyed with him. I stalked to the open door, hauling myself into the cabin, huffing. Once inside, I yanked my seat belt on, then crossed my arms and legs, pursing my lips and staring ahead stubbornly.

Mr. Peeta took a few minutes to familiarize himself with Francine, but we were moving towards my house soon enough.

“How did you get here? I didn’t see your car in the lot.” I asked, accusingly, because I wasn’t ready to stop being mad, “How are you getting back to your place? Are you stealing Francine from me?”

Mr. Peeta glanced my way, “Finnick.” He mumbled, like that explained everything.

I turned my nose up at him, like a brat, and looked away first.

If I had had my wits about me, I would’ve asked about Finnick’s whereabouts, instead, I just blurted out: “I wasn’t gonna sleep with some random jerk from a bar, you know. I ain’t stupid.”

Mr. Peeta’s jaw twitched. “I know you aren’t stupid. But alcohol clouds the best of judgements.”

“The guy bought me a beer, that was it. I just thought ‘Sweet! I don’t have to waste my hard earned money on my own hooch!’...I was totally planning on giving him the slip after a while.” I shrugged.

“It's alright, Katniss. It’s over.” He muttered, eyes trained on the road. “We don’t even have to think about it anymore.”

I found out, booze made it impossible for me to shut up once I started going, so I just kept talking.

“I went in there planning on fooling around. I mean, I’m mad as heck at Gale for being a two-timing, good-for-nothing, cheating bastard, but I’m not mad enough to have sex with some stranger I know nothin’ about, just ‘cause its Gale’s wedding night!”

“Katniss...this isn’t necessary, really.” Mr. Peeta griped, white knuckling the steering wheel. “You don’t owe me an explanation.”

“What if he had clams- um- clasps... _what’sthatword_? Sounds like comedian?”

“Chla-chlamydia?” He asked with a horrified look on his face, his eyes darting from the road to me and back. “That’s not polite conversation! Could we please not talk about this?”

“What do you wanna talk about then?” I cocked my head sideways, curiosity overwriting my desire to be an insufferable brat.

“Not that!”

“You were the one who made a scene at the bar ‘cause a guy was being friendly to me,” I rolled my eyes, which was a terrible idea, since the motion made me feel off kilter.

“He was groping you like you was a piece of fruit at a produce stand!” _Ah! So he was still mad about Beer Guy._ “Obviously we have very different concepts on the meaning of _friendly_!”

“Obviously,” I deadpanned.

Mr. Peeta continued ranting, “His hideous mug was so close to your face, I can’t believe you didn’t pass out from his foul breath! He was looking at you like you were his next meal! And mark my words, Katniss, that jackass was luring you in with fake kindness, preying on you!”

“I ain’t no prey, Imma freaking hunter! I didn’t need you rescuing me, I can manage myself. Plus, what’s the worst that could’ve happened anyway? I’d drink his beer and let him slip his hand under my shorts for a second. Big deal! I let Gale do worse than that, but nothing else happened!” I wasn’t sure why, but I started laughing hysterically at that, “Gosh! Gale came so close to stick his wiener in me. I’m glad I held out despite his whining. I’m sure he would’ve gone and screwed Officer Floozy even getting mine on a regular basis.”

_Grandma E always said: once a cheater, always a cheater._

“Katniss, there’s such a thing as oversharing,” Mr. Peeta said softly, turning into my neighborhood.

I didn’t really care for modesty at that point, “I’m finally speaking my mind about the whole Gale debacle!” I felt like spouting all the pettiness I kept under wraps in front of my folks and friends, ‘cause everyone expected me to be the picture of grace and civility. “I don’t care if _You_ hear me, I welcome it! It feels... _liberating_ , to let someone witness my emotions!” Or my raw, angry meltdown…same difference.

“I appreciate the vote of confidence, Katniss. Candidness is good, but maybe I’m not the right person to be privy to certain aspects of your ‘personal life’.”

“Which aspects?” I demanded, watching him squirm a little.

“Uh...the more… _adult_ ones?” He winced.

I huffed. “Everyone keeps treating me like showing my emotions is somehow uncalled for. Mama keeps urging me to act like nothing happened, she even made me sign my name in the congratulations card she sent to the newlyweds along with whatever expensive gift she got them from their wish list. Daddy keeps telling me to be above it all, be the bigger person, take the higher road…whatever that means. I don’t wanna be the bigger person! Even Prim— who actually offered to learn voodoo to mess with Gale’s life— keeps worrying that if I lashed out, she won’t be able to speak to Rory and Vick because it’d be too awkward.” I scowled to my knees, “Gale cleaved a freaking chasm between our families with his actions, but somehow _my_ attitude will be the thing to damage our _longstanding friendship with the Hawthorne’s_? Never mind I wasn’t the one who knocked up his superior!”

“You have every right to express your anger,” Mr. Peeta conceded, and I took it as an invitation to vent some more.

“Gale kept asking me to go all the way. I was letting him do everything else, but I just wasn’t ready, you know?” I sighed, leaning my head on the faded headrest. “I’m glad I didn’t lose my V card to him,” I snorted, “Nope, siree! My precious V card belongs to good ole _Bob_! Thank you Jo for introducing me to faithful, dependable _Bob_! Bob’s never let me down so far. In fact, the first thing I'm gonna do when I get home is run to Bob for a good dicking!” I giggled, drunkenly.

“For the love of—!” Peeta hissed, “I don’t want to know about your sex life, Katniss!”

“Why?” I asked like a toddler, turning my head in his direction, owlishly.

His ears and cheeks were as red as a tomato. “Sex it-it’s private! It’s inappropriate for you to tell me details of what you do with your…er…partners,” He snapped.

“Sex is the mostets natural thing ever, Peeta…” I said haughtily, “sex is perfectly normal. You shouldn’t shame girls for talking about it!” Then I stage-whispered conspiratorially, “I’ve never called you _Peeta_ before,” I giggled, inching as close to him as my seatbelt allowed. “Imma call you Peeta from now on, since you’ve been calling me _Katniss_ all evening!”

Peeta floundered for a moment; he rolled into my driveway, while glancing at me every other second, like he wanted to protest, but couldn’t find the right words.

His lips flattened into a slim line, as he shut off the engine. “You can call me _Peeta_ if you want,” he hesitated, “just...stop talking about sex, ‘kay? I’m not trying to shame you. The topic just makes me feel uncomfortable. I don’t want to think of you…in that context.” He cringed.

I smiled at him... _with teeth;_ predatorily—at least in my mind, anyway— “Am I gonna get in trouble if I keep doing it?” I wheedled, my voice syrupy-sweet. “You gonna take me inside and teach me a lesson for being _naughty_? Maybe bend me over your knee to give me a little _spanking_? My folks aren’t home, you know, and since you been trynna act like my father...maybe I’ll start calling you _Daddy_ too—“

“What the _fucking_ hell?!” Peeta roared from deep within his loins. “You can’t say shit like that! Not to _me_ , not to _anyone_! _Ever_!” His face was scarlet, his eyes wild, he conked the steering wheel with the flat of his fist.

I shrunk back into my seat, my lip started quivering, tears pricked at my eyes, my breath caught in my throat, and my heart doubled in tempo.

Peeta’s eyes grew to saucers, he started shaking his hands in denial, as if he wanted to put together the shattered pieces of a broken vase, “No, don’t cry! I’m sorry!” He begged, frantically.

I started bawling uncontrollably. Big, fat, salty tears fell down my face like a broken dam.

“Please, Katniss!” He beseeched me, wrestling his seatbelt to get closer to me, “Please don’t cry, sweetie...I didn’t mean to yell and cuss. Please! I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you—“

“You. Don’t. Think. I’m. _Sexy_!” I wailed between hiccups.

“What!?” Peeta was finally free of his seat belt, but he just sat there, frozen, gaping at me like his mind just could compute.

“Men, are s-s’posed to, like that k-kind of r-rubbish! D-daddy k-kink and s-s-spanking young g-girls! I’ve seen p-porn, P-Peeta...l-lots of it! W-with _Bob_!” I sobbed and simpered, shuddering every so often with heaving sighs.

Peeta’s face was haggard, his expressions went from dumbfounded, to raving mad, to horrified and ashamed, and every emotion in between. _Poor fellow_. He mumbled under his breath, “ _...the fuck is Bob?!”_ like it pained him.

I don’t think I was supposed to hear it, but I had; and since I was in a sharing mood…I told him! “ _Bob_ is my v-vibebrator.” I said, pawing at my tears harshly.

Peeta groaned, hanging his head in defeat. “Too much information, sweetheart…” he muttered into his hands.

“Jo g-gave it to me. As an early b-birthday p-present. Since G-Gale was away at base, and ‘ccording to her, all g-girls d-deserve g-good dick! My v-very own b-battery, operated, b-boyfriend… _B.O.B_!”

Peeta rubbed his face, irritably. “That Johanna Mason seems to be full of great ideas!” He snapped, glaring and scowling at Francine’s dashboard.

“Are you been _scarstic_?” I asked, sounding all of five years old. “I’m not sure if you are…I think you are. I can’t tell for sure.” I tried glaring at him. I heaved a shallow breath, but at least I wasn’t crying and hiccuping anymore.

“I’m not being sarcastic...but I bet tonight was her idea too,” Annoyed blue eyes flashed my way, just to go back to stare at the dashboard.

“Oh…Not really.” I said sheepishly. “By the way, could I have back that license in your breast pocket?” I asked quietly, twiddling my fingers together. “Jo d-doesn’t know I have it, and she’s p-prolly gonna be mighty p-pissed if you give it to her instead of m-me.”

Peeta turned to face me fully, disbelief written on his eyes. “What do you mean ‘Jo doesn’t know you have her license’?”

My face burned with embarrassment, I slumped in my seat with a huff, and started twirling the end of my braid around my pointer finger. “You see…I asked Jo if we could have a little party of our own. She was s’pposed to spend the night, and bring over a wine cooler. We were gonna celebrate Gale’s wedding by trash talking ’bout him while sipping cheap wine. But, Jo’s grandma called and told her she tripped and fell in the parking lot at ALDI. Normally Ms. Mason can handle herself, but she scraped her face and hands pretty badly on the asphalt, and was at the hospital and stuff. The doctors wouldn’t let her go home tonight, so Johanna dropped everything, and went taking care of her granny,” I swallowed, knowing the next part was going to sound bad.

“When I realized I was gonna be home alone, today, on _Gale’s wedding day,_ I felt… _bereft_. I mean, my ex was getting married to the woman he impregnated while he was supposed to be courting me, and instead of stay and supporting me, my family went to some bogus softball game! I understand it was Prim’s first overnight trip, and all, but Mrs Seeder was taking Rue, she would’ve watch over her daughter’s best friend, no problem! Then, my best friend bailed on me, suddenly! So, I swiped Jo’s license, and I may have drunk two of Mama’s Straw-ber-ritas to get the ball rolling…What was I supposed to do?”

“Um… not steal your friend’s driver’s license and get trashed at a local bar!”

My temper flared. “You’re girl shaming me again!” I accused.

“I am not girl shaming you…Whatever that means! I’m just stating the fact that you did something selfish and irresponsible! You stole somebody’s documentation and went to a bar, and lied about your age. You could’ve gotten Johanna and Haymitch in a lot of trouble, Katniss. And especially in Johanna’s case, you owe her a huge apology, for betraying her trust and friendship.”

A pair of headlights flickered at the end of the driveway, distracting Peeta momentarily. A second later, a black car with Pepto pink racing stripes parked next to us.

“Thank fucking heaven!” Peeta grunted, throwing open his door and leaping out of the truck without another word.

I sat there, staring into the horizon, lots in my own guilty thoughts. Shame wasn’t a big enough word to describe what I felt.

Peeta was right. Snatching Jo’s license without her knowledge was just incredibly selfish of me. I had trouble thinking what else I felt ashamed about, but I didn’t have to to stew on it too long; Peeta yanked open my door, beckoning me to come out.

I slid off the seat, like ice cream melting off a cone during a hot summer day.

Mr. Finnick was getting out of his car, and handed something flat and yellow to Peeta. It looked vaguely familiar, but it took me a minute to realized it was my lost flip-flop.

“Gimme your foot.” Peeta ordered softly, gesturing at my feet with an open palm. “Your left foot.” He whispered. “Your ‘ _other_ ’ left foot!” He pressed curtly when I lifted the wrong foot to him twice. He leaned down, touching the back of my heel, lightly.

I had to brace my upper body on the side of the truck to not fall. I’d forgotten I lost my flip flop at the bar. “I’m missing a shoe.” I slurred.

“Not anymore,” Peeta said, slipping the yellow thing on my foot.

“You found it!” I beamed at Peeta, and before my foot was firmly on the ground again, I stumbled forward to hug him, sincerely grateful for his courageous rescue of my $1 sandal from Old Navy. “Thank you!”

“You should thank Mr. Finnick for going back to the bar and looking for it.” Peeta mumbled, stiff as a statue under my hug.

I stepped back, and hugged Finnick instead. “Thank you!”

Mr. Finnick stood back, giving me a quizzical look. “Damn! How much did she have to drink? The kid’s shloshed.”

I cackled, finding Finnick’s assessment hilarious.

“She had one whole beer,” Peeta scowled.

“Don’t forget two of my mama’s straw-ber-ritas!” I piped up helpfully.

“I stand corrected,” Peeta deadpanned, “one straight up beer and two strawberry flavored margarita beers.” He didn’t look very amused.

Finnick whistled. “You need to lay off the hooch, kiddo.” He said, but he wasn’t smiling like he’d usually do when he was joking.

“That’s a very good idea.” Said Peeta, then looking grim, he added, “She likes to talk.”

“Any secrets worth my while?” Finnick arched his perfectly shaped eyebrows, but Peeta shook his head, disapproving.

“Nothing we should be privy to.”

“Hey! I’m standing right there, _assholes_! Don’t talk to me like I’m not listening in ear shot!”

“Huh! Nonsensical _and_ mean! Charming.” Finnick observed, his sea-green eyes scrutinized me from head to toe critically.

“You’re nonsensical and mean… _asshole_!” I countered.

Finnick shared a meaningful look with Peeta, “What’s with the cussing?”

“She picked it up at the bar. I think It’s her favorite word now.” Peeta offered, locking Francine and activating her alarm.

“Well, if she calls anyone an ‘asshole’ again, I guess I’ll be eating this gyro in front of her, without sharing.” Mr. Finnick dangled a bag from Athena’s— my favorite restaurant— in front of my face.

_Gasp!_

“She’s not a puppy, Finn!”

“Hey, reinforcing good behavior with treats works on Junior!”

Peeta rolled his eyes, “Let’s get her inside,” he guided me forward, with three fingers on the small of my back. My head turned over my shoulder, to stare longingly at the bag of food in Mr. Finnick’s hands.

It took us a minute to negotiate the front door open, and then lights flooded the living room, blinding me. It had to be after 9:00 pm, since it was already dark outside.

“Annie texted, saying she’s on her way.” Finnick informed no one in particular, after closing the door behind himself.

“Good!” Peeta started. “I’m gonna fix Katniss a cup of water, while we wait for Annie.” He turned to face me, “Ms. Annie can help you hop in the shower and get you into clean clothes if you want. Or, you can eat your gyro and go to bed right away, if that’s what you chose to do,” I perked up at the idea of eating, and gave Mr. Finnick puppy dog eyes he quickly shielded himself from. “Now, to ensure you don’t get lonely again, and get any ideas of sneaking back into a bar, we’re having a little slumber party.”

_Oh?!_

My head swiveled towards Peeta with interest, the bag of food insistently calling my name, suddenly wasn’t as enticing.

“The Odairs will be in your folks’ room.” Peeta said pointedly, as if he knew something outrageous was at the tip of my tongue, “I’m taking the couch, out here.”

“We cleared it off with your mom and pop, of course.” Mr. Finnick added lightly.

My shoulders slumped. “Oh…So you told Daddy and Mama about tonight?” My voice came out dejected and small.

“We had to, Little Critter,” Finnick said, his eyes were soft and fond, in a way that made me wanna cry.

My brain was slow, and rational thinking was hard, but I had some primitive grasp on the fact that these men, these people, were there because they cared. Whether they cared about _me_ as a person or ‘cause I was their best _buddy’s_ _child_ , my brain couldn’t be bothered to decide, but the battered part of my heart, bruised by everything that happened until that point, felt relieved and ready to settle down.

Whatever was said after that, was a blur.

Annie and Finnick Jr. arrived. I took a hot shower while Annie stood outside the unlocked bathroom door, only coming in when I asked for help. By night’s end, I had come to the conclusion that ‘Mothering’ came natural to Annie. She was nurturing and solicitous when called upon, but she also allowed space for independence.

My head was much clearer after the shower and my lukewarm dinner— which was still the best food ever!

“Thank you for supper,” I told Mr. Finnick from the door of my parents bedroom. “Athena’s is my favorite.”

Finnick looked up from the Pack ‘n Play he was setting up for his son to sleep in. “You’re welcome. It was Peeta’s idea. He asked me to pick it up when I dropped him off at D12. Originally, I was gonna get you piranha food, but he insisted you’d like a gyro much better…seeing as you inhaled that thing, practically without breathing, I’ll say he was right.” He was half joking by the smile on his lips, but his eyes were once more, x-raying me for hidden emotions.

If I had to bet, I would say that the text Peeta sent outside the bar, when I noticed my missing flip-flop, was to tell Mr. Finnick to retrieve it for me.

“I— I might’ve mentioned I was partial to it in the past.”

Finnick nodded. “Impossible…Piranhas can’t talk,”

For once, I actually laughed at Finnick’s joke.

Junior started screeching in the next room, which made Finnick wince. “I’m sorry if he’s too loud. It’s way past his bedtime and he’s getting crankier by the minute. Annie will have him asleep as soon as I get this thing set up.”

“Oh! That’s okay. I don’t mind Junior.” And I really didn’t, having him cry a bit was loads better than being in a quiet, empty house, feeling sorry about myself. “Here… I can help you with that, Posy used to have one with the same locking mechanism.” The words fell out of my mouth so naturally, that it took a minute for the devastation and sadness to come back full force.

“Hey!” Finnick, always seemed to read my moods accurately, came to rub my back when my body went rigid. “You’re okay, it’s gonna take a while to get used to your new normal, but you’ll get over this, baby girl, I swear.”

“When?”

He pulled me into a bear hug. “I don’t know, but you will.”

“I just don’t want to feel this…” I motioned vaguely with my hands, “ _emotional_ anymore,”

“I know, but guess what?” Finnick pushed away from me, cupping my face into both his hands, “You’re my best Swamp Critter, and that means you have this _thick gator hide_ , and some sharp teeth to match. You also have me, and Mr. Peeta, and Ms. Annie, and even Junior will send the Chupacabras away with one of his dirty diapers if he dares coming close to you! We are here for you, and won’t let you face tonight alone, Okay?” I nodded, tears leaking down my cheeks, but I believed him. “Good! That’s my brave girl, now, let’s dry off those tears, and fix this crib, so we can all go to bed, deal?”

* * *

I came to in my bed, sweaty and clammy; part of my sheets trailed on the floor, and the rest twisted around my legs. Bile rose in my throat with a vengeance.

I felt like I was suffocating; instinct had me flying out of bed, but my covers tightened on me, restricting my movements, until I kicked them off, and careened down the hall to the bathroom.

I was too preoccupied with reaching the toilet to care about the door, flapping open in my wake.

My sister’s cat, Buttercup, sauntered in to stare at me in his condescending way. I was heaving and retching already, so I tried shooing him away by swiping my arm at him.

The irritating monster only glared at me, and planted himself right next to my knee, facing the door, like he’s a darned sentinel watching over me while I was vulnerable. Normally, Buttercup and I couldn’t stand each other, but I could tell his loyalty ran deeper than our mutual dislike, and in that moment, I started reluctantly caring for him.

That’s how Peeta found us, me, kneeling before the porcelain throne, vomiting every single morsel of beer soaked gyro I had in my stomach, and my guardian cat hissing fiercely at the intruder, until he realized the big human holding my hair back from my face, meant me no harm.

I wasn’t quite sure how long I’d been heaving, but I was grateful when nothing else came out. My throat burned and I had tear tracks drying on my cheeks. I groaned, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand and folded my arms atop the toilet seat, to rest my forehead on.

“Lean back, sweetie,” Peeta whispered.

I shifted back sluggishly, and Peeta flushed the sick away. He sat on the floor, hugging his knees, next to me.

I laid flat on the floor, half of my back on the shower rug, and half on the cold tile. “I'm never drinking again,” I muttered darkly.

Puking was bad enough, but doing it in front of your childhood crush was simply humiliating.

“Nothin’ wrong with that. But if you change your mind, in a couple of years, just drink in moderation. Building tolerance its the best way to go.”

“Hangovers suck!”

Peeta chuckled lightly. “Is your head achy? Are you thirsty?” He asked, peering down at me. There was a hint of concern in his voice.

“Only my throat bothers me right now. But I can tell I’m gonna be in a world of pain in the mornin’,”

“Better keep you hydrated then. Come on, sweetheart, let’s get you washed up and tucked back in bed.”

Peeta helped me up, and hover behind me while I brushed my teeth; then he hovered while I shuffled back to my room.

He hesitated for a second, right in front of my open door, but finally ducked under the threshold with his arms crossed over his chest.

I noticed then, he was wearing a plain white t-shirt that hugged his biceps and chest entirely too nicely...if it wasn’t for the fact that my head started spinning, I would’ve probably stared at his chiseled physique much, much longer.

Peeta held my hand while precariously I climbed back in bed, and then laid my covers back on top of me.

He went to the kitchen for water, and asked me if I knew where my folks kept the medicines, since the only thing in Prim’s and my bathroom’s medicine cabinets were a few Mydol and Benadryl. He took a minute to return with the Tylenol bottle, and then he made me take two pills and some water.

“Your mother will be here tomorrow. She’ll probably do a better job at curing your hangover than Finnick or I could.”

He was stepping back from my bed, but I mustered enough energy to sharpen my reflexes, and snatched one of his hands before he got out of my reach. I pulled his hand down, trapping it under my cheek. I took a deep breath; he smelled of cinnamon and dill.. _.he probably made bread earlier in the day._ It was a calming scent.

“D’you think anyone knows about Gale?” I asked meekly.

Peeta sighed, “Darlin’, this is Panem. _Everybody_ knows about Gale.”

“Right.” I scowled. “Gale’s a bitch!”

“That ain’t very nice,” The words were spoken too softly to be considered a chiding.

“I don’t wanna be nice!” I responded, bratily, “in fact, I want to call him very rude names! Do you have any good ones?” I whispered eagerly.

“I— I don’t know.” He answered, weakly.

“Yes, you do!” I groaned, “You just won’t tell me!”

“I’m not gonna help you abuse your ex, Katniss, no matter how satisfying that may feel.”

“I can’t believe _HE_ _did_ _that_ to me!” I gasped, suddenly choked up with righteousness. “The bastard kept pressing me to dumb down my college choices. He kept questioning why I even wanted to go at all? He hinted left and right, he expected us to get hitched as soon as I was done with my schooling! Why would he go and stick his damned dick in some random woman he met on base?” I turned to Peeta, fire burning in my veins, “The woman outranks him! Good luck controlling his new wife like he prolly expected to do me! The nerve on that… _asshole_!”

My lip started quivering again, and then, to my surprise, my mattress dipped under Peeta’s weight, as he sat sideways on the very edge of my bed.

“Jerk. Asshole. Douchebag… _Hag_!” All those words were delivered with a hint of contempt.

“What?!” I wheezed, half confused, half hysterical.

“You asked for suitable insults to call Gale. Well, I gave you some.” He smiled sadly at me.

A smile unfurled slowly on my face, “Thank you. I knew you’d come through for me.” I sighed contentedly, sinking deeper into my pillows. “I kinda like Hag,”

Peeta chuckled, “Yeah, that one is your dad’s, actually.”

I peered up at him, dubiously, “Daddy calls people _that_?”

Peeta laughed, nervously, “Not _people_. Gale. Hunter, um, called _him_ a hag.”

I lifted my head off the pillow, never letting go of his hand. “He didn’t!” I breathed out, smiling incredulously.

“His exact words were, ‘ _I can’t believe I let that_ hag _date my little girl’,”_

_Well, I’ll be!_

I giggled. “I like it even better now!” I laid my cheek on the back of his hand again, and pursed my lips. “Your wife was a bitch too.” I said matter of factly.

“Trash talking someone you don’t know, let alone someone who’s never done anything to you, is unbecoming, Katniss.” There was no heat behind his words. It was more of an observation than a reprimand.

“Mmm…I know all I need to know about her. And, she’s a bitch,” I shrugged, “Her wedding was on New Years Eve eve!”

Peeta arched an eyebrow, “She’s a bitch because of her wedding date?” He asked, skeptical.

“Yeah! A conceited bitch!” I frowned at him, partially irritated, “Who goes and hijacks other people’s holidays like that?”

“It was my wedding too…does that make me a conceited bitch as well?” He asked, mildly amused.

“No…” I shook my head. “It probably makes you a whipped bitch, though.”

He laughed at that.

“Her worst offense, that I know of, because married people are usually worse at home, is that she upped and left you,” I said before my courage waned, because all the alcohol was mostly out of my system, and I had no idea if I could say any of these things on nerve alone. “Your ex-wife made you pay for her freaking rent wherever the heck she lived, on top of the mortgage of y’all’s house, here in Panem! She wanted you to pay alimony, even though she was making more money than you did. She broke up with you via her twin brother, and then refused to come back to North Carolina to get the divorce finalized…Should I continue?”

“How do you even know all that?” He asked, frowning and equally surprised.

“One hears things…” I shrugged the one shoulder I had on the air, then licked my lips, fiendishly, “Your mama’s a bitch too, you know? No offense.”

Peeta was laughing, an unhinged kind of sound. “None taken.” He raked his free hand over his hair.

We were quiet for a moment, and then I curled tighter around his hand. “What time is it?” I mumbled into his knuckles.

“1:30 a.m…Give or take.”

“I’ve been thinkin’...”

“Uh-Uh!”

“And, I’ve come to the conclusion, that this is some sort of a poetic justice…in an ironic kind of way.”

“What is?” He asked, curiously.

I yawned, closing my eyes for a second, “You’re here, bad mouthing Gale on his wedding day to cheer me up.” I said contentedly.

“I…don’t get it.”

“On _your_ wedding day, Gale and I were freezing our butts off, fishing in a kayak in the lake, to cheer me up.” I yawned again.

“Mmm. Okay. I still don’t get. Am I missing something?”

I sighed, like explaining all that to him was the biggest hardship in the world. _Why couldn’t he just read my mind?!_

“It was Karma!”

“I fail to see how the two are related. Unless you purposefully missed my wedding, because my marriage somehow hurt…” Peeta trailed off, and I chanced a peek at him.

His eyes were trained on me, questioning.

I tried to speak as nonchalantly as I could. “ _My life long crush was getting married_ , so I went fishing with a boy who liked me to avoid it.”

Peeta’s face shuttered up, an impassive mask shielded his emotions, but his eyes were inquisitive when he asked, “You skipped my wedding because you had a crush on me?” His tone was even and collected.

“I was a tiny bit heartbroken, Peeta, why would I voluntarily put myself through the suffering of watching it happen?” I closed my eyes again and burrowed deeper into my bed. “I had this magazine clipping of Jessica Biel’s pink wedding dress, because that’s what I hoped to wear for my wedding to you. Then, we were going to move into a house made of marzipan, and have five babies, all named after French breads and pastries. We were gonna have a dog and a shark in a fish tank…Mind you, I came up with most of these stuff between the ages of seven and thirteen…so, some of my dreams and ideas were more fantasy than reality.” My eyes were tightly shut.

“All that sounds—“

“I never told a soul about that, not even Gale,” I interrupted his thought, not ready to hear his rejection or pity, “so…if you ever say a word to anyone, I’ll deny it, and call you a dirty liar in front of everyone.”

I felt his warm, heavy hand combing back the loose hair from my forehead. It was a feather light touch. “Is there anything I need to apologize for, besides obviously, breaking your heart?” His voice was soft too, and a little shaky.

“Nah.” I shook my head, “It was just a childhood thing. Not very practical at all…can you imagine living in a house made out of marzipan? So brittle and doughy...the roof would fall in at the first rain!”

I was aiming for funny with that comment, but Peeta just sighed, like life was too big a burden for him. I opened my eyes slowly, but his were lost somewhere on the carpeted floor.

“That’s good…that you’re over…your crush.” He still wouldn’t look at me, “you should date more…boys aren’t all idiots. Some are okay.”

A heavy silence fell over us. I kinda wanted to tell him he had it all wrong, that I never said anything about being over my crush, but then all those mortifying words I said, the way I behaved, throwing myself at him like a wanton hussy came back to mind…

“I’m sorry I was being a brat to you earlier.” I whispered contritely, pulling his hand closer to my neck. “I’m sorry for all the… _nasty_ stuff I said. You were right on being crossed with me. Sorry I offended you. I had no right…I know you were grossed out. I’m sorry.”

Some of the night’s events were foggy in my memory, but I remembered enough; there were tons of slurring, hiccuping, stumbling, and crying, and I wished I could forget the raunchy crap that spouted out of my mouth, unfortunately for me, those words were irrevocably branded in my subconscious.

Peeta denied with his head, slowly. “Don’t apologize. You were hurting, and did what most people would’ve done in your position. I’m sorry I was too hard on you. I was out of line, and I should’ve been more understanding and supportive.”

“No, don’t give me a pass! I acted so selfishly, and then I disrespected myself…and you, with all those gross things I said. I should’ve stopped when you asked me to, but I didn’t listen…” I tightened my hold on his hand, squeezing my eyes shut. “Please…forgive me?”

“Of course. I meant it, when I said I should’ve supported you more. You have the right to be upset and act out, all I had to do was keep watch over you, make sure you were safe. Instead, I yelled, and treated you like a baby. That wasn’t fair—“

I sat up and hugged him, shutting him up at last. “I’m glad you're here,” I sighed into his shoulder, barely suppressing the disingenuous words ‘ _unlike my family’._ Objectively, I knew they were supporting Prim, who was still a kid, but it still stung to be left to my own devices on the day my cheating ex-boyfriend got married to his baby mama. “I’ll prolly puke again.”

Peeta chuckled, a warm hand rubbed my back deliciously. “Better out than in.”

I slipped back down to bed, Peeta’s hand still hostage under my cheek.

“Stay… until I fall asleep?” I mumbled, drowsily.

Peeta whispered something, really, very low, I didn’t catch, but his free hand combed back my hair, and it felt nice. With the addition of his scent tickling my nose, I succumbed to sleep once more, grateful I wasn’t alone in that house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y’all! I’m having a milestone birthday today!!! Yay, me!!!
> 
> Enough about me! So a couple notes: 
> 
> Jessica Biel’s pink wedding dress: Jessica Biel is an American actress, she married American singer/songwriter/actor Justin Timberlake back in 2012 in a private wedding in Italy (if I’m not mistaken). They’re still going strong! Jessica’s wedding gown was a pale pink, sweetheart neckline, with ruffles all over the skirt, and I loved it when I first saw pictures of it. Unfortunately, I still have no idea how to imbed links in this section, to include a picture of the dress for y’all... but, if you want to see it for yourself, you can google: Jessica Biel’s pink wedding dress 😊 and a million links will pop up! 
> 
> Katniss is 19 in this chapter, but since she lives in USA, she’s considered underage when it comes to alcohol drinking. She’s legal age for sexual acts, with anyone she wants... or herself. Her choice. 
> 
> I upped the chapter count, because this chapter derailed my perfectly plotted storyline. I’m changing a couple of minor things, that I find are better suited for the story.
> 
> Here starts the road to Everlark and their well deserved HEA.


	10. License and Registration

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the longest chapter in this whole story... hopefully it’s not too long for y’all to read in one go. 
> 
> Note I’ve done off with the chapter count...But don’t get too happy, it still will only be a couple more chapters before it’s all done.

My nose was assailed by the delicious— yet nauseating— aromas of a greasy, heart-attack-inducing, all around country breakfast, where everything was either deep fried, drenched in butter, or swimming in enough gravy to clog your arteries just by sight.

Beyond my bedroom door the house was alive with people chit chatting and the clinking of silverware on dishes.

_Why did they have to be so loud!?!_

The sun was absurdly loud too!

My temples pulsed with the mother of all headaches, and my stomach roiled with bile, which was impressive seeing as I had practically puked my lungs out the night before…not even the beer fumes remained in my belly.

The glass full of water Peeta placed on my desk next to the bottle of Tylenol greeted me like a best friend.

Right, _drink water first, figure out if the liquid stays down after._ If it does, then try to swallow the pills. Easy peasy.

Not!

My arms felt heavy, weak, and hard to control, like all my muscles got replaced with noodles. Opening the bottle of analgesics turned into a laughable fiasco, so I sat there and groaned loudly.

“I think I hear her now. Better go check on her…” The very welcomed voice of Mama broke my pity-party momentarily, until I remember I was in big, deep doo-doo, and then I wasn’t as excited and relieved to hear my folks were home earlier than they said they would be.

“Katniss,” said mama coming into the room with a pinched expression on her face. “How do you feel?”

“Like death warmed over,”

She opened the Tylenol and gave me two pills. “Well, I hope all this serves as a learning experience. Body limits are important, Katniss. Now, go shower and brush your teeth, Mr. Finnick made breakfast, and Lord knows he’ll keep on banging up my cookware if you don’t come out there and eat soon.”

I wanted to laugh, but I was afraid my head would split down the middle if I did. I just lumbered out of bed, gathered some clothes, and did as my mother instructed.

After the shower, I headed into the living area with my hair still dripping and a towel draped over my shoulders to keep it from getting my shirt wet.

“Well good morning there, Piranha Girl!” Called out Mr. Finnick, placing a stack of hotcakes on the middle of the dining table. “I made you my famous hangover cure breakfast, pull up a chair!” He winked at me, and if Daddy hadn’t been glaring my way right then, I would’ve smiled and thanked the chef, but I was suddenly preoccupied with not being yelled at in my current condition.

“Catkin,” was all Daddy said for a greeting.

“Mornin’, Daddy” I mumbled.

“Sit down and eat.”

All I could do was nod and plop into a chair.

Mr. Finnick sat a clean dish and a glass of some green concoction in front of me, and before I could do or say anything, he started spooning eggs and sausage patties into my plate. He gave me an encouraging smile after dropping two slices of fried green tomatoes into my growing pile of food.

“I hope you have an appetite, ‘cause Peeta, Annie and Junior ate their share and left before you came out of the shower, so this food is all just for you.” Said Mr. Finnick jovially.

Mama came behind my chair with a brush and a hair tie around her wrist; she towel dried my hair. When the water excess was sopped up, she brushed my long tresses out, lastly, weaving a simple braid down my back, the way she used to do when I was younger. I turned my head to smile gratefully at her, but she ignored me, making me feel like crap.

Despite being self conscious and uncomfortable, I was surprised at how voraciously I ate my breakfast.

“When’s Prímy coming home?” Asked Mr. Finnick, taking a seat across from me.

Mama answered, “Later on today, she’s riding back with Mrs. Seeder and Rue. Hunter just thought it was best to come home at first light, to relieve you lot from…” She pointed at me with her thumb.

I tried not to react, bowing my head low over my plate, munching silently. Unfortunately, Daddy couldn’t hold it in.

“What were you thinking?!” He slammed down his fork, bits of egg flew out from it.

“I’m sorry.” I murmured, startled.

“Sorry ain’t gonna cut it, Katniss! You had me worried sick! We had to leave your baby sister behind to rush home to you, because apparently you ain’t the responsible, sensible girl I believed you to be—“

“Dude, don’t go there.” Snapped Mr. Finnick menacingly, brandishing a piece of fried green tomato from the tines of his fork. “If you’re going to belittle her for something, call her on the things she actually did wrong, but don’t go harping on her personal traits. Making a mistake doesn’t alter her character at all,”

“Finn, I appreciate your concern, but I’ll deal with my daughter how I see fit,”

“But you were the one who dropped the ball here, Hunter, not her!”

My eyes widened, my chin quivered.

“She did a stupid thing and broke our trust!” Mama interjected angrily.

I cringed.

Daddy scowled, “She knows better than that.”

Mr. Finnick roared, “She’s a teenager!” His face turned a horrifying shade of red and veins popped along his neck, “Her boyfriend married his baby mama last night! She did what any person would’ve done in her exact same situation, and you both know it!” He pointed at my folks with the fork.

I sobbed and whimpered in my seat, watching everyone argue about me, _as if I wasn’t there_.

“So you’d be okay with Junior pulling a stunt like this?”

God! _Why couldn’t they stop screaming?!_

“I hope that if something remotely similar happened to Junior when he’s grown, I can be there for him, instead of—“

I got up, grabbed my yellow flip-flops Mr. Finnick rescued from D12 last night, and sprinted out the door, trying to outrun all the yelling and blaming.

I had no destination in mind, I just needed to leave my house. But standing on my front lawn was no better.

My first instinct was to run to Gale’s, but that place was out of the question for me now. I had no best friend to run to anymore, and a stabbing pain pierced my chest at the loss of such an important part of my life. For the first time since learning of Gale’s betrayal, I allowed myself to hate him with all my might: _he stole from me! Robbed me of my outlet and comfort; left me alone, insecure, and even erased part of my identity by taking away my hunting and fishing partner…_

I hated him for that!

I roamed the neighborhood on foot for about 15 minutes, before Daddy’s car eased next to me, near the main road. The steady stream of tears falling from my eyes blurred my vision, but I’d known him anywhere.

“Catkin, we’ve been looking for you everywhere. You gave us a scare. Can I bring you home, now?” He asked, soothingly.

I shook my head, “You’re just gonna yell as soon as I’m in the car, and I’m tired of it. All you care about is that I’m not the poster child of dignity you want me to be, and my heart hurts too much to pretend to be dignified any longer!”

The car stopped. I kept walking. Daddy jogged to me, and suddenly I found myself enveloped in his arms, sideways. I turned around to bury my face in his warm chest.

“You left me!” I pushed away from him and glared at his face.

“Catkin—“

“No!” I screamed. “No! You don’t get to _Catkin_ me after leaving me alone the day that bastard got married! I didn’t deserve that! I didn’t deserve the humiliation of signing my name on his stupid congratulations card, and sure as heck didn’t deserve you treating me like I’m some kind of embarrassment to the family, just because I couldn’t cope! You left me, and I’m mad at you!” My throat burned, but it felt good letting all my rage out.

“Katniss Ivory Everdeen! You stop screaming right now! I begged you to come with us yesterday, you refused! I told you the hotel was non refundable and we had to go. I asked you, repeatedly, to join us, ‘cause I didn’t wanna leave you alone, but you told me you’d be fine on your own. So don’t get angry with me for doing what you asked me to do!”

_Oh yeah…I did say that, didn’t I?_

Didn’t matter! I wasn’t ready to concede.

“Then you can’t be mad at me for getting slushed either!”

“I can!” Daddy countered, “As parents, we’ve never set such a poor example handling life’s hard blows, so pardon me for expecting better from my daughter. You've been acting so unaffected and dispassionate about the whole Gale affair, anybody watching you would’ve thought you were over it,”

“I acted the way y’all wanted me to!” I screeched. “You wanted me to stay cool, and Mama wanted me to show grace…why the heck should I show grace, when all I want to do is kick Gale’s ass from here to the next county?!”

“You don’t think I wanna kick that punk’s ass too?! But the reason I want you to stay cool, is ‘cause I’ve seen what hate and revenge does to people. It eats at them from the inside out, and leaves them in a worse shape than the original trauma did. So, my advice is: let karma take care of it. Wash your hands off, live your life, move forward. Life will take care of Gale, and you will have your reward for keeping your heart free of hate. I should’ve told you that earlier, explain it better, and honestly, I’m more angry at myself about last night, that I am with you…but you ain’t a kid no more, Katniss. You’ve asked us to trust you and give you room to be an adult, and I thought I was doing the right thing by letting you be this time.

“Obviously, I was wrong. You weren’t ready to face that heartache alone, and I am so very sorry I wasn’t here with you. I truly hate seeing you hurting, Catkin. I hate that I couldn’t protect you from that betrayal and that I can’t bear your pain for you. I’ve told you time and again, being a father is no easy job, I’m learning how to be one by practicing on you and your sister, which unfortunately means I’m bound to make mistakes, and this is one of them. I hope you can forgive me, but I also need you to promise me that from now on, you’ll think things through. If you say you can handle yourself, I’m gonna take you up on your word, because that’s how I raised you to be: truthful and level headed.

“What do you say, Catkin, do we have us a deal?”

I nodded.

He was right. I was so tired of feeling wretched. “I’m sorry, Daddy. I’m mad, and sad,”

“I know. But you can’t keep running away from home when you're mad or sad. I’m always in your corner, but we gotta start talking to one another,”

As I grew older, I realized that the lesson that stayed with me from that conversation, taught me that there comes a time when you have to stop running from what’s chasing you, and face it head on. That I’m not alone to fight my battles, but I need to say what I mean, and mean what I say.

“I know…”

“Alright, Sweetpea, let’s go home,”

Mama yelled at me for running off just like I predicted she would, but thanks to the conversation with Daddy, I was able to let her words slide down my back and into oblivion.

Ignoring Finnick Odair was another animal altogether. The man cupped my face into his hands, forcing me to look him in the eyes, and then he asked a few questions I had to answer truthfully: “Are you hurt?; Did anyone bother you while you were out?; Did we hurt your feelings?; Are you angry at us?” Etc.

Daddy’s eyes were red rimmed and the emotions on his face were a mixture of anger and sadness and fear. He said nothing else since we had an understanding.

Needless to say, I was grounded for the foreseeable future, but there was nothing really my folks could take away from me at 19. I was leaving for college soon, and any attempt at punishment was just an empty threat…we were all aware of the fact.

It took a few weeks to things to smooth out between me and Daddy, but at the end, I figured that growing up hurts, and the price of adulthood is complicated relationships, where the ones that matter,

* * *

That same afternoon, after the debacle with my folks, I decided to venture out to Peeta’s house. It was my first time visiting his place…ever, so I was a little nervous.

My anxiety was spiked thanks to a highly suspicious Mrs. Clove— I went looking for Peeta at the bakery first— who grilled me for about five minutes straight on what business I had to conduct with ‘ _Mr_ ’. Peeta, like it was _her_ business to know. At the end, Clove Mellark relented and told me Peeta was off and he’d be back to work the next day. So, I called Mr. Finnick to ask for Peeta’s home address, and had to go through another interrogation, before getting the information I was looking for.

Of course I couldn’t just show up to Peeta’s doorstep empty handed; so I went to the store beforehand and got him a peace offering of organic fruits and vegetables. Ideally I would’ve arranged them neatly in a wicker basket or something, but I was working with very limited resources, and could only afford a piece of gold cardboard material I fashioned into a misshapen cornucopia to stuff my produce in.

“Katniss?” He greeted when he opened the door, and found me carrying my flimsy horn of plenty, awkwardly. “Um, what are you—?”

“Can I come in? My cornucopia is falling apart,” I interrupted him because, one: he was about to ask me what was I doing, bothering him at his house? and I truly couldn’t deal with the rejection just then; and second: I could feel the cheap tape I slapped on the cardboard, snapping open in my arms. One more second standing there, and Peeta would’ve a salad bar on his front porch floor.

“Ah…sure?” Peeta stood aside, unsure, and I just flew past him, like the rude heathen I was.

My eyes scanned the cozy living room for a surface to dump my gift on: there was a tan couch with a matching loveseat, an area rug with soft blues and oranges over the dark hardwood floors complimented the soft gray of the walls perfectly; a dark wood, low coffee table in the center of the room, housed a few magazines and what looked like a TV remote and an Xbox controller.

_He was a gamer!_

Another entry was added to my Peeta Mellark mental file.

There was a nice bureau in the same dark finish as the coffee table on one side of the room; above it, affixed on the wall, was a flat screen TV; so I guessed his gaming console must’ve been stored in one of the bureau’s compartments. A simple stone and concrete fireplace on the opposite wall, balanced the room.

After a second of consideration, I made a beeline for the coffee table and dropped my burden on it.

_Much better!_

Two apples and a mango rolled out of the paper cornucopia on impact. The rest held on long enough for Peeta to take a peek at my gift, thanks to the leafy part of a celery stalk acting as a retention curtain.

“Mmm…to what do I owe the pleasure?” Peeta asked, arching one eyebrow, hands in his pockets, standing next me just in time to see the cardboard unravel completely.

We just stood there, motionless, staring at the spillage of produce rolling free underneath the cardboard.

A sad sight indeed.

I bit my lip apprehensively, I was 99.9% sure people could roast marshmallows just with the heat radiating from my face. _Mortifying!_

“Sorry I barged in unannounced. Also, sorry the presentation of my peace offering was…lacking.” I rubbed my forehead, for something to do. “I was gonna get you something sweet to eat, like cupcakes or cookies, but then I realized how silly and insulting it would be to give baked goods to the baker…from a different store. I almost got you a box of Twinkies as a joke, but I figured that’d be even more inappropriate…I mean, I’m trying to apologize here, and your disdain for processed pastries is universal knowledge, so what message would a box a Twinkies send you, right?

“Anywho, I started thinking of alternatives, and decided to get you produce. Did you know organic produce is insanely expensive? Because I didn’t, I guess I should grocery shop more often, but that’s besides the point. I wanted to give you something good…not just some average, run of the mill vegetables, because…”

I took a breath through my open mouth, and peered up at him... _really_ looked at him since barging into his house, and stopped my ramblings at once.

Peeta was wearing a crisp, powder blue button-up, long sleeves rolled up to just around his elbows, neatly tucked into dark slacks, and polished, black shoes on his feet. His hair looked a tad darker than usual, slicked back with what I surmised was a ton of hair gel. His face was clean shaven, looking soft and kissable.

I licked my lips. _Peeta Mellark truly was a snack!_

“Did I interrupt any plans?” I bit my lower lip giving him a quick, but thorough, once over.

Peeta’s jaw twitched. “I’m supposed to be heading out to pick up a lady friend, for dinner.” 

_Oh…_

I tried to school my expression into a mask of contrition, willing myself to swallow down the deep jealousy, threatening to claw out of my chest.

“A date...” It wasn’t a question, “Awesome!”

And by awesome, I meant ‘Why does every man in my life hurt me so?!’

“Yeah…it’s a… um, _makeover_ date, actually, since I had to cancel the original one last night,”

My eyes shot up to his. My brain seemed to be working overtime in compensation for _The Debacle_ the previous night, because suddenly I had a vision of him the night before wearing a nice button-up shirt…try as I may, I couldn’t remember anything from his waist down, but I had to assume it was dressy as well. I did, however, have a clear picture in my mind of Haymitch Abernathy slipping Jo’s driver’s license into the chest pocket of Peeta’s dressy, checkered shirt.

Understanding dawned on me, painfully.

There had been no malice in Peeta’s tone, despite the curt delivery of his words; but I couldn’t help feeling unwanted and silly. I knew deep down there was no sensible reason why I should feel that way. It wasn’t like Peeta invited me over to his place, and then stood me up to go on his remedial date. I went there of my own volition, unannounced, uninvited, and he was just picking up his plans from where I wrecked them (unknowingly) the day before…

Somehow, that knowledge had little positive effect on my already bruised ego and self esteem.

“Sorry,” I muttered to the floor. “I’ll be brief, so you can get back to it.” I sucked in a trembling breath, “I wanted to thank you for…” thick swallow, “for coming to get me last night, and for taking care of me when I was obviously too drunk and stupid to care for myself. I’m also sorry for all the gross, nasty things I said to you. I had no right to, um, put you in that position, dealing with my impertinence and obnoxious behavior.” I got stuck in my head for a moment, the words clogging my throat, so I just waved my hands around aimlessly until something else came out of my mouth, “I don’t remember everything I said, just enough to know it was out of line, and I’m extremely embarrassed—“

“Sweetheart, it’s okay.” Peeta cut me off, shuffling closer to me, “You were in a bad place last night. We’ve all done things we regret and are embarrassed about at some point. You’re not the first person going through a bad breakup, and you won’t be the last.” He was looking at me, but I was too humiliated to meet his gaze. “You’re allowed to make mistakes, Katniss; what you’re not allowed to do, is not learning from them.”

After a pregnant pause, where all I did was nod to my feet while he stood there watching, Peeta tapped my arm with his elbow to get my attention.

“Listen, I’m sorry we have to cut this short, but I want you to know that you can still call me if you need me, okay? For any reason. It doesn’t matter if you’re sad or lonely or angry. Just call me, and we can talk on the phone, or I can come to you,” he hesitated, “I’ll even watch over you if you want to drink a beer…not that I condone you drinking just yet, but I was 19 once, and I've felt heartbroken many times. I'll make sure you don’t get into trouble.”

“But…I was so _nasty_ to you last night!” I whined, slapping my hands on my thighs. “What if I say something bad again?” I chanced a glance at him.

“I’ll be better equipped to deal with it, Hun. You ain’t the first girl to say somethin’ indiscreet under the influence, and you’re far too smart to let me treat you poorly for it.”

I stared into his eyes and found sincerity and understanding in those deep, blue pools.

“Okay…I’ll call. But I gotta warn you, you’re making a _big_ mistake allowing this, ‘cause you won’t be able to get rid of me now,”

Peeta chuckled. “Well, if you’re gonna keep repaying me with fruit, I think I can put up with you,”

We smiled at each other. And that was the end of it for good!

* * *

School started again and I was eager to get out of my house and move completely to my spanking new-to-me room in my college appointed apartment.

I wasn’t exactly sure what Johanna had done or said to the administrators, but they assigned us a two bedroom apartment together, with a kitchenette and tiny living area, perfect for two roommates!

As a freshman, I was supposed to be bunking with another freshman, most likely a stranger, in one of the dorms in the main housing building at school, but Jo insisted I wasn’t an actual freshman, since I had taken a full semester of college classes back in high school, so the housing rules didn’t apply to me anymore. I wasn’t 100% convinced she was right, but I would never voice my doubts aloud and risk Jo’s wrath…I wasn’t sure she didn’t practice black magic in her spare time, and that was how she procured us prime living accommodations together.

To be honest, I was grateful for how things were going with school and life in general. I was enjoying my classes, excelling in almost everything, and working half time at the Student Union. Things were looking up for me.

One random evening, a month into the semester, I was lounging in our tiny living room, reading an article on the Amazon River in South America, while Johanna worked on a paper at the kitchenette table. My phone pinged with a message from Madge.

I dropped my magazine, and laid back on the cushions of the dilapidated couch we dragged from Jo’s old apartment. My socked feet were planted on the edge of the couch while my fingers flew back and forth over my phone’s screen, texting Madge back.

After a surprising message reached me, I sat up and called out, “Hey Jo, Madge texted!”

Johanna grunted, disinterested.

“She got accepted into Juilliard!”

“Wasn’t she in like some Ivy League type law school already?”

“She is…was…I’m not sure, but she’s excited about Juilliard and…this _girl_ , Cressida.” Madge hadn’t officially claimed any orientation, but there had always been signs she’d tried to suppress, “She wants me to come up to New York to meet her _friend_ …sort of a soft test, or whatever. Poor thing is unsure of what to do,”

Johanna blinked at me from behind her laptop. “What do you mean she’s ‘unsure what to do’? And what makes her think you meeting this chick will help her figure it out?” Jo sounded irritated.

I rolled my eyes, and came up to where she sat to bump my hip with her rib cage.

“I think she’s nervous ‘cause she’s leaving her comfort zone? Come on, grumpy pants, I don’t wanna go to New York by myself, and I know that’s your dream destination. I’m basically going to give my friend moral support in her time of need…as a third wheel!” I cajoled.

“Why can’t Barbie Juilliard come out of the fucking closet on her own?”

“Jo!” I chided, “Madge needs support, confidence…someone who wouldn’t judge her!”

“You don’t know the first thing about being gay!” She glared at me. “The only thing you’re proficient about is denial, which is the exact opposite Barbie Mayor needs,”

I gasped in outrage. “How am I in denial?” I demanded.

Jo snorted and went back to her pile of homework. Without looking at me, she said, “You’re so brainless! You know exactly what I’m talking about, and don’t you dare say I’m making shit up, because you know it’s true.”

I narrowed my eyes at her, and snorted dismissively, for lack of a better response.

That seemed to ruffle Johanna’s feathers, because she almost gave herself whiplash turning towards me too fast, to make her point: “That fuckwad, Gale Hawthorne, married some G.I. Jane he knocked up while dating you, and you went into a slutty-manic mode at a bar with a _stolen_ I.D…” she glared at me, “while practically screeching at your parents: _YOLO bitches,_ flipping them off. Then, the next day, Hunky Baker goes on a date with some nameless Milf you know nothing about, and you called me distraught, to tell me all the ways in which the woman is all wrong for him, and why do men ‘have’ to always be playing the field?”

“What does that have to do with anything?!”

“It has everything to do with your cursed denial! You’re so used to telling everyone you’re not drooling over the Baker, you lie to yourself about the reason you’re ready to lock yourself in your room, draw the curtains to drown your jealous spat in a gallon of ice cream. You didn’t even flinch when I yelled at you about my license 'cause you were too busy pining!”

“Preposterous! I didn’t pine!”

“No, Brainless…and this,” she made an aggressive gesture with both hands, like she was drawing a circle over me with her nails, “isn’t denying your feelings at all!”

I chuffed, crossing my arms over my chest impatiently and chosed to ignore her baseless arguments. “Are you coming to New York City with me, or what?”

“I don’t have any money,”

“Mayor Undersee does, and he’s footing the bill. Now, are you in or not? ‘Cause I gotta let Madge know who she’s buying plane tickets for,”

Jo finally tore her brown eyes from her notes, and studied me, “When is this trip of yours?” She asked, curtly.

“Labor Day weekend.”

Jo leant back, balancing her chair on the two back legs. “Will your mom and dad be okay with you not coming home for the tiny break?”

I shrugged. “I don’t think you’ve grasped the fact that this vacation is being sponsored by Mayor Undersee, yet. Plus, Madge is my oldest friend, Mama trusts the Undersees blindly.” I batted my eyelashes, sweetly, “Come on, Jo, when else will you go on an all expenses paid vacation to New York City?”

Johanna chewed the inside of her lip, “Fine.” She grumbled, trying with all her might, to appear unaffected, but I could see the excitement spilling out of her eyes, “But I’m wearing white the whole trip.”

I rolled my eyes, reaching for my phone to text Madge the good news. “Ooh… _white after Labor Day_! _What a rebel_!” I mocked, doing jazz hands while turning my back to Johanna.

“Shut up, brainless! And if you’re gonna help Barbie Juilliard get a date with this Cressida chick, you better find yourself a fling while we’re up there!”

I flipped her the bird and sprawled across the couch.

Madge and Cressida shared their first kiss at the foot of Lady Liberty on our tour of the Statue of Liberty. I wasn’t about to cheapen my best friend’s romance by getting some meaningless hook-up on my mini vacation, no matter how many pointed glares I got from Johanna. That weekend wasn’t for me, it was for my friends, and I was just happy to be tagging along and enjoying the ride.

* * *

  
“Trick or treat!”

“Wow, don’t you guys look amazing?!” I gasped exaggeratedly at the Boggs boys. “Who do we have here? Kylo Ren and...”

“Baby Sha-k!” Said the toddler with a toothy grin, clacking his chompers.

“Terrifying!” I giggled, dropping a handful of sweets in each basket.

The children ran back to their parents, waiting a few feet away.

“Good evening, Miss Katniss!” Called out Mr. Boggs, a retired army veteran in a wheelchair. He was the nicest person I’ve ever met. “I see you’re taking over your mom and pops for the evening!”

I nodded. “They decided to go out on a much needed date, since I was here to man the fort!”

“Good for them! Say hello to your folks from us!” Said Mrs. Boggs, delicately rubbing her husband’s shoulder. 

“Will do!”

“Boys, say thank you to Miss Katniss,”

The boys did as their mother instructed and then left, waving back at me.

As soon as they were gone, so was my smile.

I went home for Halloween to spend it with my sister, but she had plans of her own, and since I was stupid enough not to call ahead and let her know I was on my way to crash her party, I was left behind on trick or treat duty while my parents went out for a bite alone, and Prim had fun elsewhere. At least _Hotel Transylvania 2_ playing on TV… ‘ _Blah, blah, blah!’_

Right before I could plop back into the couch to watch my cartoon, the doorbell rang again. I grunted lowly, picking up my discarded bowl of candy.

All my annoyance was forgotten upon opening the door.

“Katniss, you’re home!” A flash of glitter and white sparkly material rushed at me while little arms locked around my neck, like an anchor.

“Posy!” I screeched, dropping to my knees to scoop her up into a hug.

“Katniss!” Rory and Vick dove in at the same time, and I just pulled handfuls of their clothing greedily to me, for a tight group hug.

“I missed y’all so much!” My voice cracked.

“We’ve missed you too,” said Hazelle, from the bottom of the porch steps.

I looked up, willing my tears to dry up, but the way the children clung to me wasn’t helping matters.

The woman gave a sad smile I returned readily.

“Kids, let’s give Katniss some room to breathe,”

“But, Ma!” Grumbled Posy,

“I don’t mind!” I said, when the boys loosen their hold on me. I straightened to give them all a good look. “Oh guys, you did very well dressing up this year!” I praised, twirling a giggling Posy by her fingers. “We have _Ahtohallan Elsa_ , with her white dress, very nice!”

Posy curtsied and giggled some more, pleased I was so very specific about her costume, then I moved on to Vick.

“And we are keeping things in royalty, with Prince Zuko I see,” I smirked, running my fingers over Vick’s eye, made up to look like it was burned. The rest of his fire nation ensamble looked expertly handmade.

“Yes! I’m Zuko from when he joined the _Gaang_!”

“I can tell by your hair! Very clever use of your natural looks!” I gushed. 

“You’re the only one who’s gotten it right!”

“Well, she basically introduced us to Avatar…” Rory rolled his eyes.

I chuckled, “Are you too old to dress up?” I asked Rory, squinting at him good naturedly.

“Yeah,” the teen shrugged, “plus, I was busy helping Vick with his costume.”

“Did you make it yourselves?” I asked, admiring the suit.

“Ma helped too. We all did, right Vick?” Posy piped in.

“Well, it looks great! Y’all did an amazing job!” I praised again.

“What are you dressed as, Katniss?” Asked Posy looking at my outfit critically.

My braid was loose and messy, hanging over my shoulder like a sleepy cobra. Since I had no desire of going out that night, I opted for comfort instead of dressing up, so I just donned gray leggings and an oversized sweater with the words ‘ _Muggle Born_ ’ printed in bold on the front.

I laughed, “Sorry to disappoint, kiddo, but today I’m dressed only as myself.”

“Nothing wrong with that. We like seeing the real you better at any rate,” commented Hazelle still keeping her distance.

“You wanna come in?” I offered, maybe too eager.

Hazelle shook her head, “It’s almost bedtime, and— How are you?” She asked, changing subjects abruptly.

“Oh, um…I’ve been busy with school, you know.” I said. “I got me a part time job on Campus, so I don’t get to come home as often as I should.”

Another group of trick or treaters arrived, interrupting my mini visit with the Hawthorne’s, I clung to Posy’s hand the whole time.

But soon enough, Hazelle started saying goodbye, and I freaked out.

I just couldn’t let go of Posy. The whole thing felt like a life or death situation. If I let go of the little girl, I’d left be adrift in an unforgiving, angry sea of feelings.

My heart throbbed.

“Please,” I practically begged, dumping half of my candy into Vick’s bag, “come back and see me soon?” Tears pricked at the corner of my eyes, as I empty my bowl into Posy’s Halloween bucket.

Hazelle sniffled, and Posy whimpered.

It was a pitiful scene, and Rory came to pick up his sister in his arms, despite she being too big to be held that way anymore.

“I have to work this weekend,” Hazelle started, “I really need a sitter…” her words hung in the air.

Vick turned his head to stare at his mother, “Ma, Rory—“

“I have to study or something. I told Ma I can’t watch you, squirts,” said Rory, hastily, smart little cookie he was.

“So, if you’re around…would you—?”

“Yes!” I almost shouted, “I’ll—I’ll come watch ‘em! Free of charge!”

“Okay,” Hazelle exhaled, and smiled at me, “See you this weekend then,”

“See y’all soon!” I called out, waving at them as they turned to wave their goodbyes every few feet.

I went back inside and turned the porch light off ‘cause I ran out of candy, and suddenly I had to double over in pain. My chest hurt and I couldn’t stand straight.

Before I knew it, I’d grabbed my keys and shoved my feet into my Ugg’s. I needed to take a drive somewhere, maybe pick up another bag of candy, then return home to wait for my family.

I was too busy trying to breathe through my mouth, because of all the snot running down my nose after crying. I didn’t notice the police car following me, until the blinding blue lights went off behind me.

The idiot cop was clearly bored to tears in those desolated backroads of Panem, because I knew for a fact I wasn’t speeding. I seethed with my hands on the steering wheel while the officer took his sweet time to approach my window.

“Evening, ma’am, do you know why I’ve stopped ya?” The cop asked, rearranging his radio on his shoulder.

_Because you have nothing better to do, other than harass an innocent motorist?_

“No, sir. I do not know,” I spoke with as much politeness as I could mustered.

“Your tag seems to be missing this year's stickers.”

“What?!” I snapped, all politeness gone out of the window. “What d'you mean I’m missing stickers?” I almost got out of my truck, before remembering myself, “ _officer_ …” I said the title a little nicer.

“We’ll figure it out in just a bit, if you can show me your license and registration,” the policeman sounded half amused.

“Of course,” I searched for my documents.

The cop had a familiar face, I couldn’t quite place.

“Aight, Imma check these,” he lifted my credentials eye level, “And we’ll be on our way,”

I chewed on my lips, eying my purse, wondering if I should text Daddy real quick, telling him about the stickers thing? But the officer came back and returned my documentation, leaning into my window.

“Here you go, Miss Everdeen,” he cocked his head sideways, as I put my license back in my wallet, “So, the records show your tags are up to date, despite the missing stickers. What probably happened is simple: someone must’ve peeled ‘em off your license plate, and put ‘em on their own. It’s not uncommon for people with expired tags to do such a thing, especially if you just stuck your new sticker on top of the old one. You can go to the DMV and request a replacement. Be advised, they may or may not charge you a fee for reprinting ‘em. What I would recommend for the future, after you pay your tag taxes, try to scrape off the old stickers before gluing on the new ones, then you should try to trace and asterisk on them with a box cutter or applying a thick coat of clear nail polish on top of the sticker. That will prevent another theft.”

I blinked at the policeman, speechless for a few seconds.

“Thank you, officer—“

“Darius. Darius Peace.” He smiled.

I hadn’t asked his name, really, but I realized why he looked vaguely familiar. I knew Gale went to school with some kid named _Peace_. I had probably seen him at the Hawthorne's before.

“Thank you, officer Peace. I’ll keep that in mind.” I said, wanting to high tail it back home. I'd had enough Gale reminders for one night.

“Ma’am, would like me to escort you back to the highway, where there’s better lighting?”

I scowled. I knew all the dark, lonely, backroads like the back of my hand; I grew up traipsing up and down them. I didn’t need no escort!

“It’s alright, officer. I’m familiar with the road. Thank you anyway.” I demurred.

He looked serious. “I couldn’t in good conscience leave the cousin of an old school acquaintance stranded out here on her own—“

“Cousin?!” _That was really the last straw!_ “I have no cousins, sir, my daddy is an only child, and my mama’s siblings never had babies. Now, thank you for offering, but I really, truly am alright getting home from here. Thank you for letting me know about my tags, I’m sure my folks will help me straighten that out. Am I free to go?”

It seemed I caught the man off guard, because he stuttered and stepped backwards with the force of my answer. “Of course, ma’am. I’m sorry if I misspoke.”

“Yeah, no problem. Thank you again. Good evening.”

“Please, make sure you get your stickers affixed to your license plate as soon as possible, to avoid being stopped again.”

“Will do, sir.”

I pressed my foot to the accelerator harder than I meant to, kicking up dirt and pebbles. Not my smartest move by any stretch.

I barely made sure officer Darius was by his car before driving away, huffing under my breath at the sheer gall of the man, but then again, Gale and I looked so similar physically, it was a common mistake even for people who knew we weren’t related. It was just infuriating at that particular moment, and there was something about Darius Peace that provoked my ire…it was like a child kicking on a hornet’s nest, and I had not one ounce of patience for such foolery.

* * *

Thanksgiving was a mess. My folks decided to invite Mama’s formerly estranged family to our house for supper, only to have Effie counter the invitation with her own _Turkey Extravaganza_ one, which my parents couldn’t quite agree to, so we ended up meeting everyone in the middle as a compromise, which apparently meant spending two nights at Haymitch Abernathy’s ‘ _mansion_ ’, literally in the halfway point between our houses.

The old drunk was as happy to host the event as a badger in a cage. One hour after arriving, Haymitch belched loudly, and announced that if anyone called him ‘Mr. Abernathy’ one more time, he was gonna poison all our food and drinks with laxatives, so we all call him ‘Haymitch’ from then on out.

The whole business wasn’t as fun for me either, spending my break in a strange house, while my mama’s siblings bitched about the bad cell phone reception and very slow internet, for which Haymitch actually seemed proud for.

Also, Mama refused Effie’s idea of getting dinner catered, and thus volunteered herself, Daddy, Prim and I, to cook for everyone.

In a normal situation, I would’ve actually enjoyed cooking with my family in an industrial size kitchen, but Haymitch’s kitchen was a bigger disaster than a foreclosed house on auction. Only the fridge, the stove, and the state if the art Ninja blender worked— apparently the appliance was a must for a well blended margarita?— and there was only one electric outlet with the plate on. His landline phone had been ripped off the wall ages earlier, leaving behind just an eyesore of cables and broken wall boxes.

Effie hired someone to tidy up the place, reconnect the phone, and fix any potentially hazardous spot for us. _It was amazing the things someone could accomplish when their pockets were deep._

Then, we had the trio’s diet situation to observe. Venia was on a no protein diet which made no sense to anyone, and Flavius only ate gluten free everything, while Octavia was being bullied by the other two into eating only what they ate, because: “Octavia can stand to lose at least 20 lbs.”

I decided to help Octavia a little because she looked really miserable having to eat only what her siblings allowed her; so I decided to sit next to her during Thanksgiving supper and sneak her all kinds of foods and gluten under the table, if I could…but first I had a self imposed errand to run.

Mellark’s was even busier than I expected for Thanksgiving Eve. I hoped to beat the holiday rush by going to the bakery around 5-ish, but the place was full to the gills. Luckily I had the wherewithal to order ahead.

I was surprised to see all three Mellark brothers working the counter.

Peeta saw me standing at the back of the line, and waved in greeting. “You here for the pies and gluten free rolls?” He asked loudly, above the hubbub.

“I am!” I called back, “but I’m afraid I need a couple more things besides the dessert, so don’t worry. I’m not in a hurry.” I wasn’t lying. I was definitely enjoying my time away from Haymitch’s.

“Okay. If you’re sure,” Peeta shrugged, giving me one of his heart stopping winks, followed by his lopsided smile.

I chuckled to myself, leaning my back against the wall.

“It’s good to see a model citizen, not taking advantage of their personal friendship with the baker on a busy day. We don’t get to see that often nowadays,” Said someone a couple of people over.

I scowled, then only allowed my eyes to follow the voice while keeping my head facing stubbornly straight.

_Oh, great!_

“Officer Peace,” I deadpanned.

The policeman moved from his spot in line, and came to stand right next me.

My scowl deepened.

“Please, call me Darius. I’m not even in uniform right now.” He sounded happy.

I looked around for a place to move over to, so I didn’t have to stand next to him any longer.

“How are you, Miss Everdeen?” I didn’t extend him the same courtesy of calling me by my first name, but I turned to acknowledge his greeting, reluctantly.

Darius was smiling. I was surprised to see he was a redhead with a smattering of freckles across his face and kind green eyes. He was actually cute, which I hadn’t noticed when he pulled me over.

“Thanks for not skipping the long line. Anyone else would’ve done it, given the chance.”

I was seriously regretting not skipping, right then.

I scanned the room again, _Was there seriously not one little cranny I could move to, to get away from that cop?!_

“Hmm,” I shrugged, “just ‘cause I’m friends with Peeta Mellark, doesn’t mean he’d give me special treatment. He’s a model citizen too,” I said, always protective of Peeta.

Officer Peace— _Darius_ — beamed widely at me. “I don’t doubt that. Someone that could make you smile like that, have to be really special.”

I tried to ignore him after that by pulling my phone out of my jacket pocket to check Facebook and just loiter around until it was my turn at the counter.

“I think this is fate, running into you. I was heading home, but my sister called out of the blue to invite me over for dinner. She decided to have Thanksgiving supper today at the last second, but didn’t have any dessert, so I decided to stop here on my way there, and then you came in!”

I rolled my eyes, and said, flatly, “I’m not sure how your family’s lack of organization means it was fate we met at the town's most popular bakery.”

“Well, I owe you an apology, and I had no idea how to get in touch with you,” He said seriously.

“Really? You had my driver’s license in your hands for like 15 minutes when you pulled me over,” I snapped.

Darius blushed and intense scarlet. “Yeah…using that information to track you down wouldn’t only be unethical, but also creepy, and a gross abuse of authority.” He said, straightening up, taking a professional tone.

At least the man was a decent human being, and not a dirty cop.

“Well, I guess the world can right itself now that you’ve bumped into me. Apologize ahead for giving me a scare by pulling me over in such a dark stretch of road then, and move on.” I wasn’t exactly sure why I was being so rude. There was something about his vague familiarity in connection to Gale, that rubbed me the wrong way.

Darius smiled, “I’m not apologizing for pulling you over, ma’am, I was just doing my job, in fact, you could’ve been pulled over any number of times by any number of officers for missing those stickers.”

“Then why were you plagued with guilt, then, sir?” I demanded, losing patience.

The ginger smirked, turning bodily towards me, “Show some pride won’t you, miss Everdeen?”

I glared at him, not really understanding his joke.

He shook his head ruefully, “I don’t mean to keep offending you, ma’am, although I happen to think the fire in your eyes becomes you.” He kinda shuffled on his feet, “So, I have to apologize for putting my foot in my mouth by bringing Gale Hawthorne up. My sister informed me you’re in fact not related the way I thought,”

Ugh!

I could feel my facial muscles shifting. My arms and legs crossed, and my hands tightened into fists. “You’re forgiven. Don’t bring Gale up anymore.”

“Noted.”

“Thanks…” I mumbled.

“No problem.”

A beat went by, I was lost in thought, but Darius chuffed a deep breath, reminding me he was still there.

“On peril of causing you anger…” he started, “I’m sorry about what…the ‘unnameable’ did to you. He's a certified idiot if you ask me. Even my sister agrees.”

I heaved a suffering sigh, massaging the bridge of my nose between my thumb and index finger. “And pray, tell me, who’s your sister?” I asked tiredly, with my eyes close.

Darius harrumphed, “Lavinia Smith, née Peace. She just got married—”

“Son of a b—“

“Katniss, anything the matter?” Peeta was suddenly gripping my bicep firmly and pulling me in front of him, while giving Darius his massive back.

“I’m fine,” I answered easily.

“You sure? You look bothered,” his blue eyes roamed my face.

“I’m sure.”

He stared for another second, his eyes softened and almost pleaded, “Come to the back?”

I shook my head. “I’m fine. I don’t want people thinking I’m cutting in line or anything, plus…you’re watching me from up there,”

Peeta’s face and ears turned pink. He nodded slowly. After a moment, he let go of my arm. “I am watching,” he murmured reassuringly.

“Thank you,” I whispered, squeezing his fingers before he could move his hand completely away.

He nodded curtly, and went back behind the counter, his eyes swiping back to me every so often, while serving customers.

Darius cleared his throat, and I rolled my eyes, annoyed.

“So, should I worry I might get spittle on my cookies, when I order?” Asked Darius, green eyes fixed on Peeta, while Peeta stared back at him.

“Only if I sick him on you,” I said smugly. “My daddy’s buddies are very protective of me that way,”

Mr. Rye called on Darius a minute or two later, and Peeta glared at him the whole time, while wrapping someone else’s order.

“Alright, Katniss,” Peeta called my name, “Your pies,” he placed a big, white bag on the counter. “You said you have something else to order?”

Peeta kept stealing glances at Darius, choosing his dozen cookies for his Thanksgiving dinner with one of Gale’s old flames.

That explained why I found him so familiar. It wasn’t that Darius went to school with Gale—the ginger might even be older than Gale— but that my ex went to prom with Darius’ sister and slept with her afterwards. The siblings favor each other.

I touched Peeta’s hand to get his attention, “I need dinner rolls, or a couple of loaves I can slice for garlic bread.” I spoke softly.

Peeta held my gaze for a moment, then bagged me half a tray of dinner rolls. He even filled me a box with cheese buns, then tossed in a few goat cheese and apple tarts.

I quirked my lips into a reproachful scowl. “How much are you gonna charge me for the cheese buns and the tarts?” I asked.

“You know how much.” He said shortly, “Now, I want you to come back into the kitchens for a minute. I’m gonna walk you back to Francine.” He wasn’t asking, which really exasperated me.

“You don’t have to do that,” I forced through gritted teeth, while ducking under the little removable plank on the counter.

Peeta grabbed my bags, and followed me to the kitchens. “Well, I want to.”

“Why?”

“Because!”

I grunted, “Okay, Daddy!”

Peeta’s eyes hardened, his jaw tightened, his nostrils flared and a muscle under his left eye twitched. “Don’t call me that. Ever! I’m not your father, and I’m not trying to be.”

“Stop acting like I’m a freaking damsel in distress every time a guy talks to me!”

“That guy was coming on to you…hard!” He hissed lowly, his free hand motioning sharply towards the front, “and you _looked_ distressed! What was I supposed to think, when your body language was screaming discomfort and irritation?!”

“I was irritated because his sister slept with Gale in high school, and he’s the cop who pulled me over on Halloween! He’s not coming on to me. He wasn’t even flirting with me, you’re just overreacting!”

“God!” Peeta groaned, facepalming himself, “you’re just too sweet and naive for your own good!” He growled, stopping shy of the door.

My mouth hung open in offense. “I am not!” I threw his hand off my arm, and stomped past him.

I turned on my heels abruptly a few feet away, smacking my face against his chest since he was so much closer than I thought. I staggered back, and jabbed my finger on his chest, accusingly, “You didn’t charge me for the pies or the other stuff!”

“You can pay me later.” He shrugged, completely unbothered, he just gave me a bunch of baked goods for basically free, because— he knew, and I knew— he was never gonna charge for them. “Where’s your truck?” He asked a few paces ahead of me.

“You’ll find it soon enough,” I called, unhelpful, crossing my arms over my chest like a brat.

“Thank you!” He said sarcastically.

He found Francine and pulled open the passenger door to place my bags inside.

“You didn’t put your coat on,” I chided in a mood to argue. “So stubborn, and for what? I would’ve been fine on my own,” the last part I muttered under my breath. “Aren’t you cold?” I didn’t mean to sound so concerned, since I was still mad at him, but it was below freezing outside already and all he had on was his thin chef’s jacket.

“I’ll be fine. I’m hot all the time, anyway.”

I know you are! My brain supplied thirstily.

“Plus it gives me peace of mind seeing you’re safe with my own eyes.”

I rolled mine.

Suddenly, Peeta hissed under his breath, “You have. To be. Fucking me!”

I looked up, finding Darius marching in our direction with determination set on his face. I shot Peeta a warning glare, and he just leaned on Francine behind me, sulkily.

Darius nodded to us, “Miss Everdeen, glad I could catch you before you left.” He said confidently, and offered me a folded piece of paper clutched in his hand, “here. Last time I had a hard time reaching you, but now you have the means to reach me, in case I need to apologize again for putting my foot in my mouth.”

“Thanks?” I answered, unsured. A peek to the note showed a hastily scrawled chain of digits that could only be his phone number.

Peeta coughed behind me, something that sounded oddly like: “Fucking unreal,” but by the way Darius’ eyes stayed on mine, I doubted the ginger heard.

“Have a nice Thanksgiving,” said Darius, and started walking away.

“Not flirting, huh?” Peeta said flatly.

Since I disliked his acerbic tone, I glared at him.

“Hey, Darius!” I called out, staring Peeta in the eye, “Call me Katniss, all my friends do anyways!”

I turned to see Darius’ face splitting grin, “Will do, Katniss,” the name sounded like a caress on his tongue.

The mutinous glower Peeta gave me afterwards, warmed me up the rest of the season.

If I hadn’t known better, I could’ve sworn the baker was jealous.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Confession time: I’m not very happy with the K-P interactions in this chapter, they felt too drawn out, but at the same time, too rushed. But I also have a big surprise for y’all, that I wanted to get to: I’m writing Outtakes and “behind the scenes” in P’s POV. The first one: “Target” will be up tomorrow! 
> 
> Juilliard School is a highly prestigious performing arts conservatory, located in New York City. I have this head canon that Madge gave Katniss her mother’s Capitol medicine not because she liked Gale, but because she loved Katniss, be it as a friend or more, that’s another thing. Also, Madge plays the piano, so I figured she’d like being a musician more than a lawyer. 
> 
> Hotel Transylvania 2 (2016) Is an Adam Sandler animated Halloween movie, starring Selena Gomez, Adam Sandler and Andy Samberg. It follows the adventures of Dracula and his family/friends as they try to prove Drac’s grandson is part vampire, while his parents are on vacation. 
> 
> “Ahtohallan Elsa“ from the movie Frozen 2 (2019). She’s all dressed in white with sparkles. 
> 
> Prince Zuko: is one of the main characters of Avatar: The Last Air Bender. Originally a Nickelodeon animated series. He’s got a scar on his face, and was given the most compelling story arch I ever seen in a kids show. He’s been my favorite since it originally aired 11 years ago😍 
> 
> Baby Shark: is from the annoyingly popular Baby shark song. 
> 
> Kylo Ren is the main antagonist in the third trilogy of Star Wars. His alter ego _Ben Solo_ is one half of my “other” OTP. 
> 
> “Muggle Born” is a termed invented by JK Rowling in her famous Harry Potter world. It refers to wizard children born to non magical folks. 
> 
> Now, Darius... I have a poll about him, ‘cause I can’t decide if I should have K date him or spur his advances altogether, what do y’all think???
> 
> The scene where Darius pulls K over, was based on a real life experience. Some 15 years ago my husband and I were driving around town and got stopped by a state trooper for the same exact reason Darius pulled K over. D’s spiel about how to prevent people from stealing the stickers off the license plate was word for word what the officer that pulled us over said to my husband back then. We got replacement stickers the next day; we didn’t get charged, but they told us at the DMV they would charge for a third reprint. Now, we go through a grueling process of slashing the tags with a box cutter every year. 
> 
> Darius was a little too direct, but K needed that. So does P to kick his butt into gear. P’s still in denial though, but K will be 20 in the next chapter, and fair game for P… finally! 
> 
> Keep an eye out for the outtakes!!! I titled them: Warming on the Lawn 🤣


	11. Happy 2018!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another year gone! A strange and weird year at that! 
> 
> Hopefully 2021 will be better and we can all go back to somewhere closer to our old normal. 
> 
> So, a couple of warnings: This chapter ends in somewhat of a cliffhanger; also, it’s not a happy cliffhanger. Peeta will struggle and even feel a bit stalkerish at one point. Katniss won’t be very nice in this one either. I promise things will get better in the following chapters. 
> 
> The format of this chapter is a bit different.
> 
> I hope you guys are keeping safe and healthy! Enjoy the holiday mess I brought you all!

The first snow of the year came on a Tuesday afternoon the first week of December. It was inconvenient as crap, since my first class on Wednesday started at 8:00 am, and Francine’s tires were as bald as a freshly made pancake.

It was my fault. I should’ve told Daddy I needed help paying for the darned things, but I was being a stubborn brat.

Johanna bitched about the snow, but refused to drive in it, so we had to walk all over campus to get to classes that day.

It sucked!

I agonized with the decision of breaking down and calling my folks to ask for money, but I didn’t want to owe them anything just yet; which was a stupid way to see it, since my father didn’t quite approve of me putting my life at risk out of pride.

But, as usual for North Carolina, the snow was all gone by Thursday evening, and I was no closer to deciding how to replace my tires before the next winter front came.

My life was becoming a petty mess, thanks to my pigheaded battle of wills with my parents, they knew nothing about to begin with.

Johanna went home that Friday after her last class of the day, to help her grandmother around the grocery store, since the old lady was still weak from her fall and the injuries she suffered earlier in the summer, plus December was always a busy month for groceries and other food shops. 

I had a mountain of assignments to work on before the holiday break, so I stayed behind. What I wasn’t expecting was the sudden knock on my door on Saturday, around noon.

I had no friends at campus outside of Jo, since between me and my sister, Prim was the one to inherit all the social skills, making her the affable butterfly she was. 

I opened the door slowly, carefully, and found my daddy on the other side.

“What are you doing here?” Surprise colored my voice as I threw open the door. 

“A little bird told me you were having car troubles, and I decided it was high time I came to check on you.” He said, rocking on the ball of his feet.

“M’kay. Who ratted me out?” I inquired moodily, “was it Johanna?” I guessed.

Daddy shook his head, “Not Johanna. At least not directly.”

“Then who?”

I had half a mind to rip someone a new one for nosing in my business.

“Mr. Peeta was grocery shopping, and heard you’ve been walking all over campus in the snow, because something’s the matter with Francine’s wheels.”

“Since when do y’all listen to gossip?” I was a little vexed.

“It ain’t no gossip if it comes from a concerned party, Catkin, you know that. Plus, I just been done looking at Francine, and the old girl needs some new threads, darling. Desperately.”

I groaned and hung my head. “Fine, come on in then,” I finally invited my daddy inside the apartment, and left him to his own devices while I changed out of my ratty house-wear and into street clothes.

While in my room, I decided to pay the gossipy baker a call.

His phone rang twice, before he answered, practically in a panic.

“Katniss, you okay? Has anything wrong happened to your truck? Johanna rang up my groceries this morning, and she said—“

“Jo needs to mind her own business, and _you_ , mister blabbermouth, need to stop tattling to my folks!” I snapped.

“You’re angry,” he mused after a second long silence.

My blood boiled.

“Stop mansplaining how I feel to me!” I snapped.

“Mans— what? How am I mansplaining how you feel? I’m just stating the obvious. You’re angry at me, and I’m not sure why?”

“You talked to Jo about my tires, and went straight to my father with the tale!”

Peeta took a deep breath. “Sweetheart, I didn’t mean no disrespect to your autonomy. For what I understood, you needed help maintaining your car, and I figured that going with my knee-jerk reaction would’ve been inappropriate, so I told your father that he needed to step up.”

“And what was your _inappropriate_ knee-jerk reaction?” I asked brattily, because I was curious, although I wasn’t ready to make peace.

“Coming over to take care of it myself.” He hesitated a moment, then continued. “I have no business coming to your school, on my own, seeking you out to spend my money on you. Don’t get me wrong, I would’ve loved doing that, but it feels like crossing a line somehow, and you’ve never missed an opportunity to remind me I’m _not_ your father, thus the inappropriateness of the situation.”

“You big dummy, Peeta Mellark! Next time you think something you’re doing is inappropriate, try asking me, and I’d tell you if it is or if it isn’t!” On a very childish impulse, I ended the call without further ado, and tossed my cell phone on my bed.

Legend says that back in the day, when land lines were still in vogue, and one had to used a receiver to speak through, abruptly smashing the receiver into the telephone base ‘ _hanging up_ ’ on a person after a heated discussion, was endlessly more satisfying that our nowadays joyless, and less dramatic disconnection from our smart phones.

_Bummer!_

I felt robbed of a potentially liberating experience; the last landline phone I used, was the one Grandma E had on her kitchen wall. 

I missed my Grandmother. 

My phone vibrated on my pillow, and I knew on instinct it was Peeta calling me back.

Gosh, I _loved_ that!

“What?” I snapped in greeting upon answering. 

“I’m sorry my actions made you mad. I’m sorry for assuming things and coming up with the wrong decision… also, I’m sorry for _mansplaning_ stuff, you seem to truly hate that.”

“Well… you know what they say about assuming stuff… you make an ass out yourself.”

He chuckled. “So… is my _dummy ass_ forgiven yet, or do I have to grovel some more?”

“I’m tempted to go with grovel, but I guess I can’t hold against you the fact that you’ve never been a girl, and are kinda ignorant on how to interact with one.”

That had him laughing, agreeing and apologizing all at once.

“Just make some cheese buns the week of Christmas, and all will be forgotten.”

“You got it, ma’am. Anything for you, Katniss.”

* * *

Holiday break was truly a blessing. I drove home with my brand new tires and told Daddy he could count those as my Christmas present. I wouldn’t even be disappointed for not getting anything else.

But, he didn’t listen, and sure enough, shiny presents with my name on rested under the tree when I got home; other than that, things went by as expected.

I lazed around most days, waking up at the crack of noon for maybe the first time in my life, and quirkily enough, I discovered waking up that late was not as great as it was cracked up to be.

The Saturday before Christmas found us standing in the ungodly long lines of Walmart.

Our buggy was weighed down with stocking stuffers, wrapping paper, at least ten of those holiday plastic treat containers you put homemade cookies in and give away as gifts. We also had all kinds of ingredients for cookies, chocolate bark, and other Christmas-y treats. I made sure to get as much quality ingredients as I could in Walmart, since learning Peeta’s tricks from the days when he tutored me in French, it would be good to put my new knowledge to good use.

I wasn’t as skilled a baker as Peeta, but thanks to him, I knew how to bake decently enough for my family.

“I’m not cooking tonight!” Snapped Mama as soon as we loaded the trunk of our car with our purchases.

“Ooh! Can we go to Ripper’s Pub? They have a Breakfast with Santa special today!” Prim piped up, buckling her seat belt.

“Primrose, it’s 5:39 in the afternoon. It’s dinner time, plus a pub? Such a place is hardly appropriate—“

“It’s an all day buffet, Mama! Specially geared towards families, and for what I heard, it’s very fairly priced.” My sister insisted, trying to catch mama’s eye on rear view mirror.

“I don’t know…”

“It’ll be fun, plus, we’ve never had an actual meal with Santa before,”

“Aren’t you a bit too old for Santa, Little Duck?” Daddy smirked.

“Come on Daddy!” Prim begged; big, blue, puppy eyes under batting eyelashes; she turned to me with them eyes, and tugged on my sleeve, “Tell ‘em, Katniss! Tell ‘em Santa and Mrs. Claus will be there!”

I snorted a giggle, and shook my head ruefully.

 _Sure, I’d play!_

I smiled with teeth and gums at my folks, “I’ve heard the pub has one of them karaoke machine things, and who doesn’t like breakfast for supper?!”

Daddy winked at Mama who was still unconvinced, and cajoled, “You won’t have to cook or do dishes, honey. What do you say?”

Mama rolled her eyes, sighing. “Fine!”

“Yay!” Prim bounced in her seat, clapping like a baby seal, and to Santa’s breakfast we went!

* * *

> _“You'll be doing all right_   
>  _With your Christmas of white_   
>  _But I'll have a blue, blue, blue, blue Christmas…”_

Loud cheering, hooting and whistling followed for a solid minute after Daddy finished his rendition of Blue Christmas, complete with a little Elvis pose at the very end of his selection.

The applause lasted all the time that took him to skip down the tiny stage in the corner of the packed pub, until he sat down at our table.

Mama was beside herself, giving Daddy a standing ovation while shouting embarrassing stuff like: “that’s my man!” and the one that truly made me wish I had stayed in the car and freeze to death outside: “Shake your thing, babe! Sexiest hunk I’ve ever seen!”

Prim however, was having the time of her life, giggling and chanting “encore, encore, encore!” with the rest of the patrons… mainly female patrons, mind you.   
  
_Ugh!_

My 19 year old self kept wondering if my family could they be any more uncool?!

“How was that?” Daddy asked sitting down.

Mama leaned on him and planted a sonorous kiss on his lips, before exhaling, breathily, “Best performance ever! Better than the king himself, I dare say,” she wiped lipstick off his lower lip with her thumb, making googly eyes at him the whole time.

“Oh brother!” I partially covered my eyes with one hand, pulling my hoodie closer to my chest with the other hand, while slouching as low as I could in my chair. “Guys… we’re like, in public here?” I tried to complain, lamely. “There’s a kid staring at ya!” 

I usually found my parents' mutual displays of affection endearing, but there was something about the way they were holding each other just then... the way they smiled and quirked their brows suggestively, that made me squirm in second hand embarrassment.

Daddy blinked as if in a daze, “What, Catkin?” He asked, not tearing his gray eyes away from my mother’s blue ones.

“Ugh! You guys are so…” I made a gagging sound, and pushed off the table.

I had no intention of going up to the karaoke machine, but halfway to the restroom, the uncharitable thought came unbidden, and I decided to find something inappropriate to sing, and make my family as cringe-y as I was.

 _Very Grinchy of me..._ I know!

I had to wait for a beat, while a grandma and a little girl sang _Jingle Bells_ together. It was fine by me, gave me time to peruse the selection and make my choice.

Then to my utmost mortification, I got on the stage, and froze up, like an idiot. Self consciousness wasn’t really a thing that ran in our family, but I was sure feeling it then! 

I hadn’t accounted for stage fright, but as soon as I held that mic and looked at the mass of people, sitting everywhere, as tightly close as they could so everyone would fit in the round tables in the eatery, I was sure the place had never been as busy as it was right then.

My knees locked, my eyes bulged, my chest constricted, and sweat started beading on my forehead and temples. My lower lip quivered. I wanted off that stupid stage, but my feet refused to move!

I saw him then, practically crawling through the crowd, elbowing his way to be in front of me. His blue eyes shone under the light blinding me.

“You’re okay, Sweetheart.” He said as soon as he was close. “I’m the only one here, okay? You can either hold my hand and hop off that stage, or you can sing to me, it’ll be okay either way. I love your singing. You sound like an angel, but it’s okay if you rather not do it,”

I nodded. Then I looked up and realized that everyone else was just a shadow, and I couldn’t see one face in the audience, except for Peeta’s.

I nodded to the greasy DJ, switching music in the console. And then the upbeat “ba-booms” of my song started blaring through the speakers.

> _“Santa baby, just slip a Sable under the tree for me,_   
>  _Been an awful good girl,_   
>  _Santa baby, so hurry down the chimney tonight.”_

My voice started out shaky, woodenly, but I forged on when Peeta blinked at me, clearly surprised by my song.

I smirked on the next stanza. I even winked at him once.

> _“Santa baby, a '54 convertible too, light blue._   
>  _I'll wait up for you, dear,_   
>  _Santa baby, so hurry down the chimney tonight._
> 
> _Think of all the fun I've missed,_   
>  _Think of all the fellas that I haven't kissed,_   
>  _Next year, I could be just as good_   
>  _If you check off my Christmas list.”_

Oh boy! That one made him plop down on a chair he stole from a nearby table.

His eyes never left my face.

> _“Santa baby, I want a yacht, and really, that's not a lot,_   
>  _Been an angel all year,_   
>  _Santa baby, so hurry down the chimney tonight._
> 
> _Santa honey, one little thing I really need,_   
>  _The deed to a platinum mine,_   
>  _Santa baby, so hurry down the chimney tonight.”_

By that part in the song, I was basically strutting to and from the stage, and then shimmied sideways down the steps, sashaying my hips to the rhythm of the music, a coy smile on my lips.

> _“Santa cutie, and fill my stocking with a duplex and checks,_   
>  _Sign your "X" on the line,_   
>  _Santa cutie, and hurry down the chimney tonight.”_

I reached him, and touched his shoulder with the tip of my fingers, then circled around him…

> _“Come and trim my Christmas tree_   
>  _With some decorations bought at Tiffany's,_   
>  _I really do believe in you,_   
>  _Let's see if you believe in me.”_

When I came face to face with him, I gave him a quick pout and a wink, and slunk back to the stage, because I didn’t know the lyrics 100% and needed my cheat-sheet-prompter. 

> _“Santa baby, forgot to mention one little thing,_   
>  _A ring, I don't mean on the phone,_   
>  _Santa baby, so hurry down the chimney tonight.”_
> 
> _Hurry down the chimney tonight..._   
>  _Hurry, tonight.”_

Some half drunken idiot stood up and hollered, “Baby, I’ll come down your chimney right now with that ring if you come sit on my lap!”

Peeta, of course, turned his head in the direction of the guy, scowling something fierce, “This is a family event!” Peeta tossed in the general direction of where the catcall came from.

“Dude, tell her that! Besides, she’s hot!”

Peeta jumped from his stolen chair, and started stomping in the guy’s direction.

_Geez!_

I put the microphone back on the stand and rolled my eyes.

I took a few fast steps towards Peeta, and grabbed his bicep, “Come on, feisty pants. You can’t be getting into fisticuffs with every guy that hits on me.”

Peeta started sputtering protests and staring daggers at the big mouth dummy sitting with what looked like his entire family. I doubted he was married though, but there were at least two teenagers and a kid at his table.

“I just hate men objectifying you, Katniss! I mean, you’re insanely pretty, and maybe the song was a tad provocative, but I truly hate that some jerks treat you like you're some piece of as— _meat_! Or something…”

“Are you drunk?” I asked, trying to hold back my smiles. “By the way, you can say “Ass”. I’m 19, remember? I’ve heard worse.” 

“Stop reminding me your age, please! And no! I’m not drunk. I’m driving. Plus I’m here with… my… _friend_ and her sons. We came to see Santa.”

I stopped abruptly, less than two feet from my family’s table. I turned to face Peeta who had been following me close since I grabbed his arm.

“You’re here on a _date_? With your date’s _children_?” My voice came out high pitched. Incredulous. “You’re dating a _woman with children?_ How many? Wait, that doesn’t matter! Ugh!” I turned on my heel and stalked away from him, angrier than I had a right to be.

“Katniss…” Peeta was hot on my heels; he snatched the fingers of my right hand, and pulled me to a stop.

My folks seemed oblivious to us, and then I realized why.

Cecilia Higgins, my mother’s divorcee co-worker, was sitting right on the chair I left vacant, the youngest of her three boys sat on her lap as she talked animatedly with my parents; Prim was nowhere to be seen, but her chair was taken by Cecilia’s middle son while the oldest, who was probably 13 or 14, stood morosely, next to his mother.

I turned infinitesimally towards Peeta, “You’re dating _Cecilia_.” It wasn’t a question.

He swallowed thickly, “Well, yeah… Cece is a very handsome lady. We have some things in common,”

“Like what?”

The whole time I mentally chanted: _if you say age,_ oooh _… I’m gonna throttle you!_

“Anyway,” Peeta completely ignored my question, “we saw your folks on our way out, since Santa left already, the boys wanted to go home, and Prim saw her friend Rue… then, you got up there, and looked like a deer in crosshairs. Your father was gonna go get you, but… I kinda leapt up, ahead of him. And you know the rest.”

“You are _unbelievable_!” I grunted. “I don’t need you to—“ I looked up towards the ceiling in my exasperation, and was shocked to find the huge bundle of greenery and white berries hanging from the exposed beams of the pub. “Hello,” I muttered.

Peeta looked up as well, and his cheeks went from the slight pink he’d been sporting, to a sickly pale in just seconds.

He let go of my fingers, like the contact burned him, and immediately took a step back, so he wasn’t directly under the posy of mistletoe hanging above our heads.

I’m not sure came over me, but I perceived his reaction as cowardice, and that just simply made my blood boil in anger.

“That does it!” I exclaimed, and stepped back into him.

I grabbed him by the collar of his jacket, and forcibly pulled him towards me. Lifting on the tip of my toes, I smacked my lips squared into his, and then… I inhaled the deepest breath through my nose, until my lungs couldn’t take any more air.

Peeta seemed to deflate; all the fight left his body, and he became almost pliant. His fingers flexed on my arms, unsure, before cupping my elbows delicately. He hummed…

Then…I shoved him away with my hands flat on his chest. “Merry Christmas!” I growled at him, not meaning one iota of the jolly sentiment.

Peeta’s eyes were wide, his mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water, but up until then, my mind hadn’t caught up with the feeling of rejection and shame lurking in my chest, so I fled.

I stopped briefly at our table, “Imma be in the car, whenever you guys are ready to go home.” I told my parents shortly, and stalked out of the pub without even acknowledging Cecilia and her kids.

* * *

**Sat Dec 22**

  
**9:05 p.m. Peeta:** “ _Can we talk?_ ”

 **9:06 p.m. Peeta:** “ _Come on, Sweetheart, please talk to me.”_

 **10:15 p.m. Peeta:** “ _Okay… you either need some space, or you already went to bed, either way, I’m here whenever you’re up to talk, okay?”_

 **10:22 p.m. Peeta:** “ _Seriously. Even if it’s in the middle of the night… although, I am a baker, so I might be asleep… in which case, just let me know when can I text you back, and I’ll do it.”_

  
**Sun Dec 23**

  
**8:00 a.m. Peeta:** _“Hi! Just checking in on you! Making sure everything is okay.”_

 **8:02 a.m. Peeta:** “ _There’s no reason to feel embarrassed, or… whatever. It was just mistletoe. It’s tradition to kiss. Not that we did anything wrong. Many people kiss, and they’re not romantically involved or anything. Same thing here, right??”_

 **5:47 p.m. Peeta:** “ _Merry Christmas Eve Eve!_ ”

 **5:47 p.m. Peeta:** “🥳”

**Mon Dec 24**

  
**10:12 a.m. Peeta:** “ _So… let me know if you wanna talk!”_

 **10:15 a.m. Peeta:** “ _We can have a cup of hot chocolate, on the house! I know is Christmas Eve, and you're prolly busy, but you used to love coming to the bakery and seeing the Christmas display, and you haven’t been this year... We might have to drink our chocolate in the office, though, you know, holiday rush is a crazy all day event right now. Anyway, text me back? Please?”_

 **1:09 p.m. Peeta:** “ _Are you guys going to the candlelight service? I heard this year they’ll serve cookies after… I won’t make you talk to me if we see each other, though. Not about the mistletoe incident… it’s Christmas Eve… I hope you’re having fun.”_

 **3:00 p.m. Peeta:** “ _I’ll let you be now. Sorry for... everything.”_

**Tue Dec 25**

  
**6:16 a.m. Peeta:** “ _Merry Christmas, Katniss. hope yours is nice.”_

  
 **9:03 a.m. Me:** “🎄🎅🏼 🎁“

 **  
9:04 p.m. Peeta:** “❤️🎄 🍞 ☕️”

**Wed Dec 28**

  
**3:22 p.m. Peeta:** “ _I feel like I should apologize. No, I ‘know’ I have to apologize._ ”

 **3:23 p.m. Peeta:** “ _Im so sorry Katniss, for any inappropriate behavior I’ve had with you the last few days. I know I’m acting like a creep, and I’m terribly sorry about it, I just don’t want to hurt you, and I feel like I have. Please, forgive me… I shouldn’t be hounding you like this, accosting you to talk, when you clearly don’t want to. You can tell me to stop texting, and I will, just hear me out one more time and I’ll be done.”_

 **3:25 p.m. Peeta:** “ _I care a lot about you Katniss, and I hate that I made you uncomfortable or upset, both even. I’m so sorry, and I really want to fix things, if you let me know how...”_

I had a couple more messages in the same vein, but he just kinda repeated himself in those. 

I stared at the ceiling of my bedroom, laying on my back on my bed, wondering if I even wanted to put him out of his misery. As it was, he was paying attention to me, and even I had no idea what he did wrong to make this angry and hurt. He was just dating a woman his own age! It was his right to find love or whatever he was looking for... just not with me. 

A year rolled down my cheek. 

I was sorry for myself. I was embarrassed too... I kissed him, and he looked so... _troubled!_

If only we were the same age…

* * *

The next time I saw Peeta was at the New Year’s square dance the Odairs started hosting a few years before they were blessed with Junior.

The get together was truly a big to-do in town, with at the very least fifty guests on a weak year, and triple that on a plentiful year.

I guess it was the unassuming, laidback, and all around Dixie feel of the party that made it popular… for starters, people didn’t have to break the bank getting expensive formalwear or anything; it sufficed one owned a pair of jeans, a good button up— preferably of the plaid flannel variety— and some dust stomping cowboy boots to complete the ensemble, and one was party ready! 

Of course, such outfits required the right kind of venue, and the Odairs had these friends who owned a farm with this barn they’d repurposed as an events hall, and they dressed the place up to look country Christmas and hoedown ready.

Then, there was the food, which normally consisted of chicken nuggets, pulled pork sandwiches, and Brunswick stew for the main course; apple pie moonshine instead of champagne to toast the new year, or cold, icy, Coke products for the younglings. Mellark’s usually had its own table laden with finger desserts and a hot cocoa station.

The party truly was the opposite of what anyone would picture for a New Year’s Eve dance, but it worked marvelously!

Since I knew Peeta was gonna be there, and because I had been exchanging sporadic texts with Darius since Thanksgiving, I figured it was a great idea to invite him along. The man practically asked me out every other message!

At first, I was reluctant to go out with Darius; Jo said it best one day before holiday break: “ _I cannot imagine any circumstance where I would consider any kind of relationship with the guy that pulled me over in a dark, scary, patch of road - I mean, that would’ve freaked me out too much!_ ”

Darius wasn’t scary, objectively speaking. Annoying as heck once he started hounding for a date? Sure! But scary, he was not.

So, maybe because I needed a rebound from Gale’s betrayal, and too feel good about myself after Peeta’s rejection, I gave Darius a chance, and it was almost fine. My parents liked him well enough— let me rephrase that—Mama fanned over the big shot Police officer I brought along to the dance... * _eye roll!_ *

The woman kept giggling at Darius’ jokes like a schoolgirl crushing on a teacher. _Whatever!_ Daddy shook his hand, but there was no warmth to the greeting. And soon enough, my folks went out into the dance floor for a spin to Leonard Skynner’s _Sweet Home Alabama_ , leaving Darius, Prim and I at the table we claimed for ourselves to our own devices.

“So, you guys come to this shindig every year?” Darius asked, nursing a tumbler of apple pie moonshine Mama insisted he tried.

“Yeah,” Prim answered distractedly, typing something on her phone with furious speed. “The Odairs are like… chosen family to us.” She said somewhat curtly.

“That’s awesome! I mean, I’ve always heard of this thing, but I’ve never met Mr. Odair before.”

“Oh, Finnick and Annie are amazing people. But, just a heads up, Mr. Finnick is a bit protective over us… so, he’ll try to intimidate you as soon as I introduce y’all to each other.” I said, surprising myself with how fond I was of Finnick being a terrible gatekeeper of sorts.

Darius chuckled, his green eyes wrinkled at the corner, “I see. You ladies have a bunch of overprotective uncles to watch over you. That’s great!”

“Overprotective uncles?” Prim’s head shot up, confusion blooming on her puckered face.

“Uh… the baker almost tore me a new one ‘bout a month ago, for getting too close to your sister,” Darius laughed, blushing slightly, making his freckles stand out.

Prim rolled her eyes and shrugged, “So you met Mr. Peeta already? Yeah, he’s actually the mildest of the two, don’t get me wrong, Mr. Peeta will talk you to death, but Mr. Finnick is completely aggravating...” Prim wrinkled her nose, “Mr. Peeta would knock your teeth out if you look Katniss the wrong way, though, so... I guess he ain’t as tame as I thought,” Prim smiled to herself.

I could feel fire and mortification creep up my face, but before anyone noticed, Finnick sprung up seemingly out of thin air.

“I heard my name, followed by the words: completely aggravating? What’s that about? I’m a peach! I have a great personality if I say so myself!”

“No… what you have is a big ego, that miraculously hasn’t made your head too big to fit through doorways and such,” I say, smirking.

“Ooh, didn’t you get the memo? No sassying the host allowed in this celebration,”

“Must’ve gotten lost in the mail. You know how unreliable made up rules are these days.”

“Indeed!” Finnick narrowed his sea green eyes to slits, and then turned his gaze to my date with his usual x-raying perusal. “Who’s this?” He stood straighter and put down on the table a half-eaten mini donut, quickly brushing his sugar coated hand on his jeans, before offering it to Darius.

“This is Darius Peace, a friend of mine. Darius, this is Finnick Odair, aggravating overprotective uncle figure—“

“And square dance host extraordinaire!” Said Finnick grasping Darius' hand in a shake.

“Nice to meet you, sir,”

“Samewise! Are you the cop I’ve heard so much about?”

Darius’ eyebrows quirked up, his eyes twinkled like Finnick had just complemented him, when in fact, the older man recognized him for pulling me over and coming on to me at the bakery... in front of Peeta no less! 

“The girls weren’t kidding when they said I was _overprotective_ ,” Finnick bared his teeth in an almost aggressive smile. How could somebody look so feral and intimidating while smiling and shaking a hand in greeting, was beyond my comprehension. “Welcome to my party, officer Peace, I hope you’re a gentleman with our little Katniss here…”

“Oh, hey, I think Annie is calling you!” I snapped, but Finnick was too busy staring Darius down.

“Have y’all eaten yet? This year we have bratwursts and sauerkraut, smoked chicken with slaw, and our traditional pulled pork sandwich with barbecue sauce. Help yourself, be warned… Katniss is half piranha.”

“Hey!” I protested.

Finnick just winked at me and picked up his donut, popping it into his open mouth, leaving a ring of powder sugar on the chequered tablecloth, “See you ‘round, kids!” He grabbed Prim’s head and smack a kiss to the crown of her hair; he give Darius one last hard stare before sauntering away.

_Ugh! Finnick was so annoying!_

“Well, that went well,” Prim deadpanned.

Darius started laughing and shaking his head. He commented on how great it was we had people who cared so much about us, and yadda yadda.

My parents came back sweating buckets from all the dancing, and announced they were getting food. Prim tagged along with them, but Darius asked if we could dance.

Shania Twain was on, and it was probably the most appropriate song in the history of perfect timings, ‘cause I was _not_ impressed with Darius’ country dancing skills. _Bless his heart!_ But what really soured my mood, was that towards the end of the song, we bumped into Peeta and Ms. Cecilia, also dancing.

“Katniss, hey!” Peeta called, turning his torso awkwardly, so he could face me.

I tried to ignore him, but that didn’t work when Cecilia herself waved, with a toothy smile.

_Curse my impeccable southern manners!_

I nodded politely, and slowed down my partner, so we could say hello properly.

“Hello, Peeta. Mrs. Cecilia. Have you met my date, Officer Darius Peace?” My eyes flashed to Peeta’s, as he did a quick scan over Darius, snagging on the hand the man had on my lower back, like it personally offended him somehow. 

“Officer Peace, how do you do?”

We didn’t linger long after, but Shania’s _Don’t Impress Me Much_ was replaced with some generic stuff I didn’t recognize.

“Let’s go eat!” I practically demanded, stomping towards the food table, not even checking if my date was following.

I served myself an indecent amount of chicken and coleslaw, plopping a pork sandwich on top of my side of sweet potato fries and candied apples. If I knew that Darius would be cool with me drinking booze, I also would’ve loaded up a cup with moonshine, but I figured drinking alcohol in front of the law was a bit too much, so I contented myself with a whole bottle of root beer I snatched up from the beverage table.

Halfway to our table, I realized I had no utensils, so I turned around and grabbed a handful with a growl. I think I scared the poor, unsuspecting old man trying to get napkins on the other side of the silverware.

“Um, I had some forks for us here…” said Darius, lifting the forks in front of me, most unhelpfully.

“Thanks!” I snapped.

My mood only improved with every forkful of food I shoveled into my mouth. Darius kept glancing at me from his plate, but he said nothing, which was possibly his most prominent saving grace.

A boy, Jason _something_ , came to say hello to Prim. My parents went back to dance as soon as their food was gone, so once again, I was left to entertain Darius on my own.

“Food’s delicious,” The man offered, wiping barbecue sauce off his lips.

My mouth was full, so I made an agreeing “hum” from the back of my throat, just to be interrupted by Peeta.

“The food here is prime!”

“Mr. Mellark!” Darius threw a hand out to greet Peeta.

Prim looked up and smiled, waving a hello with her fingers, without interrupting her hushed conversation with Jason.

“Call me Peeta, Officer Peace. ‘Mr. Mellark’ is my father.”

“Of course! You can call me Darius. Even while in uniform, I don’t mind,” 

Peeta nodded, the ghost of a smile on his face. “That’s nice.” He paused a moment to looked at me.

 _Darned it!_ I was almost done with my supper, in a minute I couldn’t claim ‘having a mouth full’ as an excuse to be rude and not talk to him anymore. 

“So, have you been enjoying yourself so far?” Peeta inquired, piercing blue eyes scrutinizing Darius’ face.

_Dear Lord Baby Jesus! Will these men ever stop embarrassing me?_

The screeching sound of a fire spittin’ fiddle blared through the barn, and an uproar of cheers and hoots went up from the excited crowd.

Prim jumped out of her seat barely paying any mind to her shocked little friend, knocking down her chair and rushing to pull me out of mine. She tugged insistently on my sleeve, “It’s _The Devil Went Down to Georgia_ , Katniss! We gotta dance!”

“A’ight.” I got up without any more preamble and let my baby sister drag me to the already packed dance floor.

Johnny had already accepted the devil’s challenge, and the first fiddle solo had started, so Prim and I lost no time linking our elbows and skipping around like happy prospectors after a fruitful day.

The music was energetic and fast, and my sister and I kept giggling and spinning, do si do-ing, feet in and out. It was the funnest I’ve had all night… all _year_ , really!

The devil lost his bet and his solid gold fiddle to Johnny, and Prim and I sang the lyrics at the top of our lungs...

> _“Johnny said, "Devil, just come on back if you ever wanna try again_   
>  _I done told you once, you son of a bitch_   
>  _I'm the best that's ever been" he played”_

On cue, the both of us air played imaginary fiddles to one another while prancing around and laughing nonstop, until it was time to sing the chorus again.

> _“‘Fire on the Mountain’, run, boys, run_   
>  _The Devil's in the house of the risin' sun_   
>  _The chicken in the bread pan pickin' out dough_   
>  _Granny, will your dog bite? No, child, no”_

When the song ended, we bowed to each other and joined the rest of the dancers applauding the DJ for his absolutely flawless taste in redneck music.

“That was fun, Little Duck! Thank you for that!”

“Thank you for being the best big sissy! Plus, I figured you could’ve used the time away from _helicopter uncles_ ,” Prim giggled, motioning her head towards Peeta, still at our table with Darius. 

Her comment however, felt like a bucket of cold lemonade to the system...bitter and too chilly.

“Right,” I mumbled.

“Let’s go make sure Mr. Peeta hasn’t scared Darius away!” Prim enthused, skipping forward, while I dragged my feet behind her.

Our folks were back, making small talk with both Peeta and Darius; Prim’s friend was no where to be found, but my sister didn’t seem too broken up about it.

“Let’s go get dessert,” I whispered conspiratorially into Prim’s ear.

“Best. Idea. Ever!”

We skipped the tiny dessert plates on the table, and went for the bigger ones, filling them up high with all sorts of sweets. We had cakes, mini donuts, tiny tarts, cookies, chocolate covered strawberries, mini cannolis, tiny pain au chocolat, and every other miniature treat Mellark’s had catered to the dance.

Everything tasted amazing!

Cecilia and her sons were at our table when Prim and I finally made it back. I tried with all my might to be pleasant to her; after all, it wasn’t her fault she was dating the object of my unrequited affections. Neither her nor Peeta knew how painful it was to see them standing there together, her leaning very close to him, while her oldest son threw daggers at them from behind his solo cup full of sweet tea.

Cecilia’s youngest boy started squirming and hopping from foot to foot, then announced he needed to go potty. For whatever reason, Cecilia’s little family moved like a pod of whales, so when she excused herself to take her kid to the restroom, the other two boys followed.

Some chick I vaguely remembered from school— possibly a Gale conquest, judging by the dirty glare she tossed at me upon recognition— squealed Darius’ name, and promptly proceeded to absorb him into an animated conversation.

A minute later, Darius leaned closer to me, “Hey, Ariadne wants me to come say hi to her brother, who’s across the room, over there.” He pointed at the far corner of the barn, “You mind if I go?” He asked me.

I was chewing a macaron I’d just popped whole, into my mouth.

“Nah a’ all…” I said, spewing tiny chunks of crust, around my mouthful. _Disgusting!_

 _Ariadne—_ who ever she was _—_ gave me a look, that I responded to with a smile, trying to show as much of my food through.

_Petty as ever!_

“How are those?” Peeta asked, dropping into the chair Darius vacated.

“‘Ood!” I said around my bite. I finally managed to swallow. “Outdid yourself for sure.”

“I’ll tell my brothers you approved,” he smiled.

I just nodded, eating the last piece of carrot cake I had on my plate and licking the crumbs off my fingers.

“Finger licking good, huh?” He muttered, so very low, I didn’t think he was talking to me at first, but then I looked up, and he was staring at my fingers, before blinking furiously, as if waking from a trance.

“Everdeens!” Finnick rushed by our table, dragging a flustered looking Annie by her hand. “Come to the dance floor, I just queued up that song you like… and we have an announcement!” He called over his shoulder, running towards the front of the room. “Peeta, get your dancing partner out here too, now!”

Peeta grimaced. “Better go looking for Cece,”

“Pishposh! Why, Katniss is right there, and she’s an excellent dancer, aren’t you, honey?” Said Mama, springing up, ready for another round of dancing.

Peeta and I stood there like a pair of dorks, staring at each other awkwardly, until he lifted a hand to rub at his neck in that now-familiar nervous tick of his.

“I think we should get going then...”

“Hello everyone!” Finnick greeted from a microphone the DJ produced from his console before Peeta and I even moved. “Friends and neighbors, gather ‘round, gather ‘round! We— my beautiful wife and I, that is— wanna thank you all for spending New Year’s Eve with us, in our humble soiree!”

Applause erupted from everywhere.

”Thank you! Thank you, truly!” Finnick motioned for everyone to simmer down, “So, tonight, we will ring in the new year: 2018! And I couldn’t wish for better company than y’all! Thank you for being here! Also, my wife has just given me the thumbs up to share something I’ve been looking forward to just screaming to the four winds for a long minute… Come this June, Baby Odair ‘ _número dos_ ’ will be joining our sweet, little family, making us four!”

“Oh!” I exclaimed.

The cheers from the other guests was deafening.

Annie looked like she wanted to disappear on the spot, and suddenly I felt a surge of empathy for her. 

Peeta was whistling loudly next to me, clapping and shouting “Congratulations!” With the rest of the mob.

“Now that I’ve gotten those exciting news out of my chest,” everyone laughed, “one last song to shake your bones to before the countdown to midnight!”

More applause and cheering.

Finnick kissed his wife, and wrapped her into a protective half hug, looking down at her with adoration and gratitud. 

“Wow. That right there... that’s the picture of love,” Peeta mumbled, teary eyes watching, full of longing and maybe just a tad of envy. 

Finnick stepped away from the DJ’s booth, and another song started, one my daddy hooted about, excitedly.

Peeta cleared his throat, and made a vague hand gesture to the dance floor, “So… shall we?”

 _Well… this is a dance,_ I reasoned with myself, “When in Rome…” I took his outstretched hand and simply glided closer to him.

It was weird at first, to feel his hand, warm and huge, settled smack in the middle of my back; his palm covered the width of it. Then we were off, spinning and stomping like a pair of tops to the sounds of country music.

It was a fun song, really… _Firecracker,_ if I recalled correctly. 

> “ _When I look in her eyes_  
>  _It ain't no surprise_  
>  _Sparks start a flyin like the 4th of July_
> 
> _She gets me so hot, my heart starts a poppin'_   
>  _When we get to kissin, there ain't no stoppin'_
> 
> _When it comes to love_   
>  _She ain't no slacker_   
>  _My little darlin is a firecracker”_

For a minute, it felt like the world was this perfect place to me. Age didn’t matter… Peeta and I were two people dancing, and that was that.

Except, Peeta seemed kinda rigid, and the corner of his lips kept twitching.   
  
In a panic, afraid he’d pull away and leave there on my own like a moron, I decided talking was necessary... _wasn’t he begging me talk to him the last few days?!_

“It’s nice about Annie and Finn having another baby.” I said.

“Oh, yes!” He agreed readily, tension leaching out of his massive frame. 

> “ _When I light the fuse_  
>  _I gotta get back quick_  
>  _You gotta be careful with a dynamite stick_  
>  _Son of a gun she fun to handle_
> 
> _And she packs a punch like a roman candle_   
>  _She a pack of black cats in a red paper wrapper_   
>  _My little darlin' is a firecracker”_

“Did you know?” I asked, “I don’t think my parents knew, otherwise they would’ve blabbed ‘bout it earlier,” I said trying to ignore the lyrics to the song we were dancing to.

> _“We might not ought to take a roll in the hay_   
>  _Cause we'd burn the barn down one of these days_   
>  _Were a match made in heaven_   
>  _And it ain't no joke._   
>  _But id sure I hate to see it go up in smoke_
> 
> _We got a good thing going_   
>  _And it feels so right_   
>  _Shes a firecracker_   
>  _Shes the light of my life.”_

Peeta’s fingers clenched on my back, his face pinched for a second, returning to his usual, affable self right away. “No, I had no idea. It was a good surprise though. They deserve it. They deserve to have a nice, big, happy family.”

I wasn’t sure what possessed me to say what I said next, but the words were out of my mouth before I could stop them. “You deserve a big, happy family too,” at least, my voice was soft.

Peeta looked down at me, a self deprecating smile on his face. “I don’t think children are in the cards for me.”

> “ _She goes off with a great big bang_  
>  _Boys I tell ya its a beautiful thing_  
>  _She takes off you better hang on tight_
> 
> _Shes a blonde bottle rocket_   
>  _In the middle of the night_   
>  _When she makes love shes a heart attacker_   
>  _My little darlin is a firecracker”_

“Geez... These lyrics! What was Finn thinking’?” Peeta let go of my waist, holding to my hand with his feet one, and tried to pull the collar of his shirt from his neck. Uncomfortable and flustered.

Ugh… yeah… _making love... gross!_

It was lucky I’d stopped paying attention to the lyrics, ‘cause the whole sex with a blonde was painting too detailed a picture, specially with my folks dancing excitedly a few feet away from Peeta and I.

“You don’t want ‘em?” I asked trying to bring a Peeta to our earlier conversation, “Children, I mean?” I was honestly curious, then realized how invasive that question was. “Sorry… don’t answer that. That was rude.” Not to mention _none of my beeswax!_

Peeta shook his head, “it’s okay, no harm done.” He took a second before fixing his eyes on me again. “I would’ve loved to have babies. Lots of ‘em, really. But Cashmere had a complicated childhood and didn’t have any desire to be a mother herself, so… I figured I'd respect her wishes and never pursue them. That was my last shot at having a family of my own, I think.”

Oh yeah, _Cashmere_...there’s the ‘bottle blonde rocket’ of the song.

 _Rats!_ Another porny verse!

> _“We might not ought to take a roll in the hay_   
>  _Cause we'd burn the barn down one of these days_   
>  _Were a match made in heaven_   
>  _And it ain't no joke._   
>  _But id sure I hate to see it go up in smoke”_

“You can’t know that!” 

“I’m almost 40 years old, Katniss. Women my age aren’t usually looking to start a family from scratch. Women my age would mostly already had their children, and have a clear vision of how they want their life to be. Seldom a woman my age is looking to raise an infant.”

“Is that why you're dating Mrs. Cecilia?”

Peeta sighed.

> _“We got a good thing going_   
>  _And it feels so right_   
>  _Shes a firecracker_   
>  _Shes the light of my life._
> 
> _Shes a firecracker_   
>  _Shes the light of my life”_

“Maybe…” His eyes searched mine. “Her oldest son hates my guts though.”

We stare at each other for a second, and I realize we’ve stopped dancing at some point.

> “ _Firecracker_  
>  _Firecracker_
> 
> _Whooooo hoooo”_

“Yeah, he looks like a little jerk,” I said.

“He is. He’s convinced his daddy is gonna come back and his mother is gonna kick me to the curb. He’s told me that to my face at least twice before and after every date I’ve had with Cecilia.”

”Is that likely? They’ve only been divorced a few months...”

”Don’t know. She’s having fun right now, I guess...”

 _Ouch!_ That truly stung for unclear reasons. 

There was silence between us, while the music swirled around us.

Suddenly, we were laughing. Not sure what about. It couldn’t be about Peeta’s misfortune putting up with a teenage punk and serving as a woman’s rebound.

> _“Firecracker_   
>  _Firecracker_
> 
> _Bang_
> 
> _Firecracker”_

The song ended, and the DJ started speaking, pumping everyone up about the countdown to midnight.

We sobered up. Looked around the rest of the people squeezing closer to the center of the barn, listening intently at the DJ. 

Peeta took a deep breath. “I guess you should go find _Officer Red_ for that midnight smooch, huh?”

I frowned. “Why would I—“ I clenched my mouth shut. Stared at my cute flowery cowgirl boots, then rose my eyes to see Peeta watching me, carefully. “I guess you should go find _Cece_ , too, then,” I didn’t mean to sound so bitter about it.

“Perhaps, although, I’m not gonna be kissing her in front of her sons. It’s an unspoken rule of hers.” He shrugged.

“I don’t think I’m gonna kiss Darius either.” I said, fiddling with the hem of my plaid flannel shirt.

“Why not?

“You think I should?” I peered up at him, trying to gage his answer. 

People started counting around us, “ _Ten. Nine. Eight..._ ”

Peeta scoffed, as if disgusted, “Whatever I think is irrelevant. It-it’s inappropriate to have an opinion on who you kiss, Katniss. My thoughts on this topic are completely inconsequential.”

“ _Seven. Six..._ ”

“Did— did you just gave me the three I’s?”

“The three _what_?”

“ _Five. Four…”_

“The three ‘I’s! Irrelevant, inappropriate and inconsequential,”

“ _Three. Two…_ ”

“Yeah, I did. For one, is inappropriate of me to think about you kissing anyone… it’s inappropriate to think of _who_ I want you to be kissing, anyway...”

“ _One…_ ”

“Who would you have me kiss, Peeta?” I asked softly, beseechingly.

He stuttered a breath. “Don’t ask me that,” he half commanded in a whisper. 

“ _Zero… happy new year!_ ”

Noises of fireworks went off. Inside the barn they set up a show of lasers in lieu of fireworks. 

Peeta and I just stared at each other, frozen. And as a very old recording of _Auld Lang Syne_ drifted through the speaker system, we collided against each other, like magnets! Our lips melded together; his fingers clasped my chin; mine found the hair at his nape, The taught fabric of his shirt covering his shoulders.

Like lighting strike, Peeta ripped himself away from me, horror etched in his face, and eyes dilated and terrified. 

I was confused and dazed, I tried smiling at him, wish him a happiness for the year to come as pure as the one I felt right then... but things kissing wasn’t as wonderful for him, as it was for me.

His mouth opened, “I’m sorry! I shouldn’t have done that! I… I shouldn’t have. I didn’t mean to do that… please, forgive me!”

Before I could say anything... reassure him that it was okay, that liked the kiss, he fled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was full of music: Christmas and Country. The plot is actually shorter, because I was writing a bunch of other stories for Seasons of Hope and Seasons of Everlark (I hope you guys were able to catch), but the dance party had been outlined months ago, because it was the tipping point for Everkark. 
> 
> I wanted to have this out before New Year’s Eve, but real life has been harsh on my family this month... lots of health related scares (not me or my husband/kids). No covid so far. A broken pipe right before Christmas, and not one, but three funerals we attended virtually for family friends. Im actually kind of relieved December is gone! 
> 
> Now, about the story... I’m very nervous to hear y’all’s thoughts. I know Peeta came across as creepy in this chapter. But I wanted him to be awkward and slightly obsessive about Katniss freezing him out. Right now their communication is terrible, and they need to work on it, but as it is, Peeta is freaked out about his growing feelings. I’m gonna warn you from now, her family won’t be too pleased, and there will be more Darius at least for one more chapter. **There will be angst!**
> 
> **Miscellaneous notes:** I think Hunter could’ve been an Elvis Presley impersonator, and I really liked the idea of him singing _Blue Christmas_ , lol. For this story, I think Katniss’ singing voice has more of a Zooey Deschanel flavor to it. I wanted to have Peeta singing too... they would’ve done _Baby, is Cold Outside_ , like Zooey and Will Ferrell do in the movie “Elf”... I just couldn’t squeeze it in, plus MegaAuLover promised me she’d have a scene just like it in her holiday WiP on tumblr “Spreading Christmas Cheer”. Go read it if you haven’t! 
> 
> _Blue Christmas_ , sang by Elvis Presley. Music and Lyrics: Billy Hayes and Jay W. Johnson. From: Elvis’ Christmas Album, 1957.
> 
>  _Santa Baby_ , single by singer: Eartha Kitt. Written by: Joan Javits, Philip Springer, and Tony Springer, 1953. It was controversial at its time for its tongue in cheek and provocative lyrics.
> 
>  _Firecracker_ , sang by: Josh Turner  
> Album: Everything Is Fine, 2007  
>  _Sweet Home Alabama_ by Leonard Skynner. 1974 Songwriter(s): Ed King, Gary Rossington, and Ronnie Van Zant.
> 
>  _The Devil Went Down to Georgia_ , 1979, written and performed by: The Charlie Daniels Band. I’ve never a Georgia native who didn’t like that song! 
> 
> Honorable mention to Shania Twain’s _That Don't Impress Me Much_ , 1997.
> 
> I stole a quote from my dear reader **honeylime** , and assigned it to Johanna, because it sounded like something She’d tell her beloved “Brainless” to get her to see reason 😊
> 
> Alrighty, hope you all have a great 2021! Thank you being such a supportive fandom during this pandemic months. 
> 
> Stay safe and healthy! Be good to yourselves! Go read more fics!!! See y’all next year 🤪


	12. Valentine’s Date from Hell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Belated Valentine’s Day everyone. 
> 
> A few warnings: Long a** chapter; Peeta’s his usual pigheaded self, but he’s aware of their feelings now (Don’t worry, next chapter is all about P). K dates Darius and some **very** brief adult situations ensue (don’t worry, he’s out the door in this one!). Some gaslighting.

“Let me see if I got this straight,” said my sister, taking in a deep breath, “You’re honest to God in love with Mr. Peeta, and you two just kissed—“

“For the second time,” I interrupted pointing my finger straight up, haughtily, like it would be a sin to forget that incriminating little detail.

“For the second time,” Prim emphasized with a mild roll of her eyes, “and he ran off, because…”

“Of reasons?” I finished lamely, shoulders hunching and arms wrapping around myself as I leaned heavily on the cold tiled wall of the too spacious restroom stall.

 _Who would’ve thunk a barn—_ restored as an event center or not _— had such a nice lady’s room?_

Prim emitted a sound between a sigh and a sympathetic groan, and threw her arm around my shoulder in a half hug. It was nice having my sister there to comfort me.

Out of all the people who could’ve possibly seen me and Peeta kissing, Prim was perhaps the best option, considering Peeta and I had been in the middle of a packed dance floor during a popular New Year’s Eve event.

The fact that only Prim saw it was a miracle in itself…actually, maybe not a _miracle_ so much as a blessing. I couldn’t bring myself to imagine how catastrophic it would’ve been to be spotted by my folks, or the Odairs.

“Was it good, though?” Prim murmured, resting her head on my shoulder.

I snort-giggled. “Out of all the things you could’ve asked, that’s what you’re curious about?”

Prim straightened up and glared at me, “Well, duh! All this drama for a measly ten second kiss? It better be a toe curling one to be worth sitting on the hard floor of a public bathroom to commiserate!”

We giggled together for a bit.

“So…” Prim pressed, peering up at me expectantly. “How was it?”

“Amazing...” I grumbled under my breath, averting my eyes and feeling my cheeks burn with embarrassment, “I just wished he hadn’t run off like a coward right after.”

Prim scrunched up her face looking at the stall door across from us. Then she sucked on her teeth, which was gross.

“I don’t know if I’d call him a _coward_ , though,” she said. “Think about it, he was probably shocked, he also probably expected Daddy to jump him or something, he most likely felt guilty...like he did something wrong. What were his exact words?” She peeked at me with those big blue eyes, more effective than truth serum.

“He… I don’t… it’s kinda. Hmm…I don’t remember exactly, but it was along the lines that he shouldn’t have done it, that he was sorry he kissed me back?”

I felt miserable, but Prim shook her head vigorously, “Did he said he was sorry he kissed you back, or that he was sorry for kissing you?” Prim inquired. Sometimes she looked wiser than age.

I huffed.

“Come on, Katniss… this is important.”

“Why? He said he was sorry, what difference does the wording make?”

“It makes all the difference, you goof!” Prim dropped her arm from round me to make hand gestures that implied non verbal frustration. “Ugh! You can be so dense sometimes! Depending on what he said, he was either apologizing for the kiss or telling you he regretted it and to get lost.”

“When did you become a linguistics expert, Little Duck? I thought your heart was set on med school.“

“When did you become so skittish?” Prim countered.

I huffed again. “I think he said he shouldn’t have kissed me, and then he apologized for it. But it happened too fast.”

“Well, I’m sure he feels bad, even confused. I mean he’s like 40, right?”

“37 actually. But I can see how he might feel weird about this whole thing.”

“Yeah… he may see you like a daughter or something,”

“Nah. I've reminded him enough he’s not my father, to make a deep dent of it in his mind.”

Prim shrugged again, “He may still see you like a little girl. Gosh!” She grimaced, “He might start ignoring you as a way to protect you. Rue did that to Rory when he thought he had a crush on her. It was awful! Everyone was miserable. You better talk to him before it comes to that, because I’m telling you, ignoring Rory hurt them both in the end.”

“Wow…high school sounds like a total soap opera. But I guess seeing all that stuff has made you very smart in the relationship department, huh?”

Prim giggled, “Not really, but I figured it was good advice anyway, even if I say so myself.”

“It is pretty good advice, but I’m not so sure going after Peeta right now will help…I’m afraid you might be right about him ignoring me.”

My phone vibrated in the back pocket of my jeans, “Hold on a second, I got a text.”

I scowled, reading my message.

“Is it Mama?” Prim asked, craning her neck to look into my phone, “Tell her we are in the bathroom. She’s probably ready to go home.”

“It’s… Peeta.” I gritted out.

Primrose scrambled up, and really tried to snoop into my phone, “What did he say?”

I passed the device to my sister, and she sat back on her haunches; big, blue eyes swiping over the screen before reading out loud, despite the fact that I’d just read the message myself.

“Just found young officer Darius by the drinking fountain near the restrooms. He said he saw you and Miss Prim rush into the ladies’ room and was wondering if everything was alright with y’all? I gambled a small chat with him. Seems like a good, responsible young fellow. Age appropriate and smitten. I ain’t trying to tell you what to do, Katniss, but if he treats you right, makes you smile, keeps you safe, you should give him a chance. Who knows, you might actually like him! Your safety is all I care about, your happiness too, I hope you know that. Happy New Year, sweetheart. Be safe. Don’t leave Darius waiting too long.”

“Is that… _it_?” Prim looked at me. I was moved and surprised by her sadden expression and the slump on her shoulders. “Well, I guess the message’s clear. Sorry, Kat.”

“It’s okay, Prim. It ain’t the first time my heart breaks a little because of Peeta Mellark.”

* * *

“It was stunning, dears,” aunt Effie simpered dreamily, nursing a frilly drink in one hand, while fanning herself with the other one. “The mountains as a backdrop to the quaint, little hotel… and the tiny little chapel was just adorable! I wished you had been there! But then again, it was a completely spontaneous, spur of the moment thing, you know! So romantic!”

Effie gripped Mama’s hand, and my mother gave an excited little gasp of agreement.

Aunt Effie and Haymitch returned from a New Year’s getaway to the Poconos, shockingly married. Effie wouldn’t stop gushing about their time in the Pennsylvanian mountains, and how romantic their wedding ceremony had been.

Mama and Prim ate the stuff up like they’ve never seen a romantic mountain in their life, as if the Smoky Mountains surrounding Panem weren’t romantic enough for them. _Ugh!_

Daddy smiled indulgently and nodded at the right times, while I just sat there, praying for an early grave so I didn’t have to suffer through that mortifying conversation any longer.

But supper at Effie’s was the first official family event Darius tagged along with as my boyfriend, and the conversation about eloping and honeymooning at hotels with heart shaped pools and chocolate covered strawberries felt a bit oppressive while Darius’ fingers brushed up and down my arm, to the point my skin was crawling.

Lucky for me, Haymitch looked even more miserable than I felt, and soon grunted, grouchily, “How about some grub?”

Haymitch got off his puffy chair and marched to the dining room, blessedly forcing the rest of us to follow while Effie grumbled about her groom's lack of etiquette and how she had her work cut out for her to reform him.

_Good luck with that, toots!_

“Your family is so _colorful_!” Darius whispered into my ear.

“Tell me about it. And you still haven’t met mama’s siblings.” I said.

Dinner was an elaborate but not as snooty as usual; the newlyweds bickered between courses like a pair of toddlers sharing a pacifier. I started wondering how much longer they would last married at the rate they were fighting?

At some point, I accidentally (not really) knocked down a serving dish of buttered peas. I wasn’t trying to accomplish anything specific, except, possibly, the chance to make a mess on the floor, and having to excuse myself from the table to clean it up, but Darius dove under the table for me, and while that wasn’t exactly part of my plan, I followed him to the floor between our chairs.

“Katniss, darling, you don’t have to do that,” droned Effie. “Let the boy do it, if he feels inclined to. Lord knows we need more chivalrous gestures from our men,”

Haymitch said something, too low for me to make out. It didn’t matter anyway, Darius reached for my hand and gave it a squeeze, buttery and greasy from the peas he’d already collected.

“I have this, babe!” He smiled at me.

 _Babe? Did he just call me_ Babe _?!_

Irked as I was by the pet name, I smiled sweetly back at him and shook my head slowly, “You’re our guest, Darius, please. I’ll take care of my own mess.” I was trying to sound demurred instead of aggravated, my hands were all slimy already anyway.

After the pea debacle, Darius drove me home, but we didn’t go to my house straight away. We stopped at a Dairy Queen, and Darius got us cookies and cream blizzards.

Normally, I would’ve ordered brownie flavor, but he ordered for the both of us without asking.

“I don’t know what’s the fascination people have with weddings,” He said out of the blue while scraping ice cream from the bottom of his cup.

I shrugged, “Most girls grow up thinking weddings are the ultimate fairytale. Then, when they’re older, become obsessed with that idea... I mean, they’ve been developing it in their minds their whole life, once it happens, I suppose things have to be as perfect as they’ve dreamed them.”

“Well, I don’t see the appeal.” He said dismissively. “You didn’t seem as wrapped up into the wedding conversation with your aunt as your mother and sister, though. I think that’s awesome!”

I frowned, taking a tiny bite of my blizzard. “I don’t care much about elopements. Mama and Prim think eloping is romantic. Me, not so much.”

“Well, that only makes you even more attractive to me,” he said in a syrupy tone, sliding an arm around me and leaning into my neck, dropping kisses behind my ear.

I wedged my elbow against his chest and pushed myself away from him, “Darius, we’re at a Dairy Queen,” I grounded out.

“A deserted Dairy Queen,” he mumbled, landing another kiss to the corner of my mouth. “You’re seriously hot, babe,”

_Again with the pet name!_

I forcibly tore myself from his side and scowled at him.

Darius sat back, and his olive green eyes studied me for a while.

“I’m not comfortable with public cuddling and kissing. So, please…let’s dial it back a notch?” My voice was softer than before.

Darius made a small gesture with his head, still staring at me, “You’re quite the conundrum, baby. Cute as a button, and mysterious as puzzle. I like you like I haven’t liked anyone before.”

I was starting to feel like a deer in crosshairs, getting ready to bolt as soon as possible, but Darius smiled, and relaxed, looking away from me finally.

“Alright, babe, no more PDA from me, as long as you don’t bring up wedding talk and such.”

“There’s something we can agree on,” I said under my breath, and shucked my half eaten blizzard into the trash can a foot away. “No wedding talk, and no public smooching. I think we have us an understanding, sir.”

* * *

February 2nd started out great! It was a sunny Friday, full of potential and clear, blue skies…then of course, that rascally groundhog, Punxsutawney Phil, saw his shadow on the ground and rushed back into his hidie-hole, like a frightened little scaredy-cat, and from then on, my day soured tremendously.

Since morning started sunny, I decided to walk to class— without an umbrella!— which proved to be a humongous mistake, because halfway across campus, the sky broke open drenching me to core in freezing rainwater.

“Six more weeks of this shit?!” Spat a random girl passing by me, to her friend, and I responded with a mental ‘I hear ya, sister!’

Well, at least she had an umbrella above her head, which may have been poor consolation, considering she was sharing it with her companion; but as Grandma E used to say: “ _the grass is always greener on the other side_ ”.

I got stuck in a get-drenched/dry-up cycle while walking around campus between classes, which had me squinting up at the sky, and giving the Almighty Lord a sarcastic ‘Har-har, you got me! I got my own particular Groundhog Day!’ immediately thinking better of it, and speeding up, hunching over with my head bowed, muttering “Sorry…kidding!”, hoping I didn’t overstep the line with my cheekiness and earned something even worse, like getting struck by lightning or something.

Thankfully, I only had four classes on Fridays that semester, and my last class let up 30 minutes earlier than usual, so I hustled back the tiny apartment I shared with Jo, who already had two trash bags full of dirty linens and clothes waiting to be hauled unto Francine, so we could dash back to Panem for the weekend.

“What happened to you?” Johanna asked as soon as I stepped inside, dripping rainwater all over the place.

“You know, I figured I’d save time by taking a shower on my way here,” I responded with acerbic acidity. 

“Hey, if you’re gonna be bitch, at least shake the excess water outside the door, like a good female pup.” She rolled her brown, wide set eyes at me.

“Shut up, and make sure your space heater is off. I don’t want a repeat of last time!” I shouted over my shoulder while marching straight to the bathroom.

“Geez, you’re such a nag when you’re in a bad mood!”

I peeked my head out to make sure Jo unplugged the space heater in her bedroom.

I wasn’t kidding. The last time we went home, she left the stupid thing running the whole time; her room was hotter tan hell when we got back. Her poor beta fish was belly up in a mostly empty fishbowl on her desk. It was insane!

I took a quick shower, and we got on the road right away not to waste any daylight driving in those conditions. It took us and extra hour to reach Panem because of the heavy rain. The little window on the back of Francine’s cabin started leaking halfway home; Johanna rolled up a few towels to stuff them against the partition, to try and keep us dry.

Craziness continued at Jo’s house.

Johanna didn’t wanna make two trips in the proverbial monsoon, so she started dragging up her gravel driveway both bags full of clothes, her bookbag with her computer in it, her small overnight bag, plus the wet, heavy towels we used on the window. The bags ripped into tatters, clothes spilled across the muddy path, she tried to shield her laptop with torso, which was a list cause anyway; with her hair plastered to her skull, Jo look smaller and fragile...

I couldn’t just drive off and leave my friend like that, so back into the rain I went.

Jo’s grandma came outside to help when she realized we were dashing back and forth under the downpour picking up stuff and dumping them on the stoop of her porch, but we were done and shivering by then. The old gal invited me inside to warm up, since my teeth were rattling somethin’ awful, but I just wanted to go home and change into dry jammies.

Jo hugged me goodbye, and whispered into my shoulder, “Thank you, brainless. You’re not a complete bitch after all…” 

I replied with a sarcastic “I hate you,” And hopped back on Francine while my friend cackled hysterically, throwing a lazy arm around her grandma.

I seemed to hit every single red light on my way home, which was frustrating since there was almost no traffic.

Finally! I pulled into my driveway, dreaming of a steaming hot bath, but to my surprise, my family weren’t home.

Well, Grandma E used to say, “ _when life gives you lemons, make lemonade_ ,”

“Yay, me!” I did a little mental dance.

I had the whole house to myself! I could take a long, luxurious bath in peace! I started plotting to swipe one of Mama’s Lush bath bombs, probably a couple of her scented candles as well; I wondered if Prim still had that Bluetooth speaker on her desk? I could listen to some relaxing tunes while bathing by aromatherapy candlelight. If I hadn’t been so wet and cold, I’d even slice a cucumber to place on my eyes like they do in movies.

I got out of my truck deliberately slowly, since there was no rush anymore; I was home, about to take a nice bath, and I was already soaked to the bones. My teeth were still chattering from the cold, but other than that there was no reason in the world to hurry.

I grabbed my duffle bag, my laptop bag, and jumped into a puddle like a little kid. I kicked off my rain boots, right then and there, and smiled at my soaked socks. I hauled all of my stuff up to my porch, sighing in relief. I was making a mental note to have Daddy fix the leak on Francine and probably even ask him to clean her up inside...I fished my house key out of my backpack, fit it into the lock and… snap!

“Goddammit!” I yelled!

My freaking key broke in the lock, effectively leaving me locked outside, freezing, wet and pissed off.

I grunted in aggravation, pulling my phone out of my pocket; the screen was fogged up. “No, no, no, no!” I cried out, praying my cellphone hadn’t gone the way of the dodo with all the times it had gotten wet that day.

I cleaned it up as best I could, and to my utter relief, the thing turned on right away.

I called Daddy first, but strangely enough, his phone went straight to voicemail. I called Prim, but it rang until it went to her inbox. I dialed Mama, but her phone sent her auto response text: “ _I can’t come to the phone right now, I will call you back as soon as I can_ ” which meant she was at work…who knew when she’d be back home.

I was in tears, debating whether it was worth breaking a window or something? I called the one number that had never gone to voicemail any time I’d called, not even during his rush hour at the bakery. 

Peeta’s phone rang exactly three times, before a slightly guarded “Hello,” greeted me…I bawled as soon as I heard him.

“Katniss, what’s wrong?” Peeta asked, concern thick in his tone. “Where are you? I’ll go to you wherever you are,”

“I’m… home,” I managed to whine out, “I’m drenched, I’m freezing, and hungry! My stupid key just broke in the lock, and my family is nowhere to be found!” I wailed.

“Okay, darlin’, I’m coming over. Is your car dry?”

“What?!” The question felt weirdly out of place.

“I want you to sit in your car and crank up the heat until I get there. Can you do that?”

I nodded, and rubbed my eyes with the heel of my hand before remembering he couldn’t see me. “Francine is soaked inside, but a little bit more water won’t make much of a difference at this point.”

It was true, the bench was wet from when I helped Jo and the rain that leaked in. 

“Try to get warm anyway you can. I’m on my way.”

It took him almost twenty minutes to get there. I was in a horrible mood, yet still managed to notice he was wearing an off white Henley, light brown trousers and timberland boots. His hair was tousled, and his umbrella had a goofy smiley face design on the top. He was also carrying a canvas bag and a thermos in his free hand.

I jumped out of Francine, splashing muddy water in my socks like a brat. I didn’t bother putting my boots back on.

“I’ve had a terrible day!” I snapped before he had a chance to greet me, “I forgot my stupid umbrella at the apartment, then had to walk in this torrential rain all morning, and then Jo’s dirty laundry spilled all over the place and we had to pick it up, and I’m so tired, and it’s all that stupid groundhog’s fault! He’s prolly laughing at me right now, nice and cozy in his burrow, all warm and snug, while I’m here, freezing my butt OFF!” I yelled the last word like a lunatic, flapping my arms in the air for dramatic effect.

Peeta’s lip twitched, but had the good sense not to smile.

“Here,” he handed me the thermos, “first things first, hot chocolate to warm you up from the inside out.”

As apologies for taking his sweet time showing up to my house went, hot chocolate on a cold day was appreciated.

I snatched the proffered beverage, scowling. I quickly bounded up to the porch, like a cranky woodland critter with a crumb they didn’t know how to be grateful for.

Once in my front porch, Peeta fished a knitted blanket out of his canvas bag, “This is to warm you up on the outside.” He mumbled, wrapping the wooly thing around my shoulders, like a mama bird doted on a chick.

“Alright…now for my magic trick.” Peeta grinned, dipping down on one knee in front of the door.

He peered into his bag and pulled a very long silicone stick—the kind one uses in glue guns— and a lighter.

I watched him wearily, “I knew you were artsy, but I never pegged you for a crafts type guy,”

He smiled and winked at me. “You’ll see,”

I didn't have to wait long.

“So, the easiest, cheapest way to extract a broken key from a lock, is to melt the end of this thing,” he held the glue stick up and waved it.

I sipped my hot chocolate directly from the thermos’ mouth, and felt myself relax at the divine taste, _Delicious!_

Peeta held the tip of the silicone stick to the lighter flame, until the stick charred and started to melt.

“Then…we press the sticky side to the lock, as thus. Making sure all that melted glue attaches to the piece of broken key…” he placed the burned silicone to the lock, and kept it pushed in place for a minute or so, “we wait until the glue cools down and hardens, then...” he jiggled the glue stick, pulling the whole thing until it came free from the lock, key tip embedded into the hardened silicone and all! “Voila!”

He dropped the stick to the floor, and looked up at me, smiling brilliantly from ear to ear.

I crossed my arms over my chest, thermos dangling from my fingers. “Now what? I don’t have a spare key!” I snapped, moodily.

Peeta’s grin grew, if it was possible. He put his index finger up in the air, in the universal ‘wait a moment’ gesture, and stood up, grabbing his umbrella.

He left the porch, and I followed him just to the bottom of the stoop leading to the walkway, too curious to mind the rain much. I saw him disappear around the house, and frowned at his vanishing boots. I wondered if it was his day off, since that was definitely not his normal bakery attire.

A moment later, the lights inside the house flickered on, and the front door unlocked from the inside. Peeta pulled open the door and gave a silly little bow, like he indeed had performed a great magic trick.

“Enter my lady!” He intoned with a flourish.

I glared at him suspiciously and stepped past him, dragging my duffle bag across the floor like dead weight. “How?” I demanded.

“The emergency key hung from a nail in the second to last post of the railing on the backyard deck.”

“Son of a…!” I pressed my lips into a bloodless line.

 _How could I forget about the stupid emergency key?!_ That’s was the first thing Daddy showed us when we were old enough to be out of the house independently from him and Mama, so we could always take ourselves inside, even if they were out.

“Finnick and I have similar ones at our houses.” Peeta said, letting his smile fall slowly, presumably having read my facial expression.

He sighed. He stepped back outside to pick up his belongings, dumping the glue stick with the tip of my key and the lighter into his bag. Then, he pulled out of it two Tupperware containers.

“I brought you something to eat.” He explained, on his way to the kitchen, while I tracked mud and rainwater all over the carpet without feeling an ounce of guilt about it. “You can pop it in the microwave for a minute, after you change out of your wet clothes—“

“Are you staying?” For all my irritation, the question left my lips meekly and half pleading.

“Um…no. I don’t think staying any longer than what I’d already have will be appropriate.”

“Why not?”

Peeta inhaled deeply. He smiled sadly, meeting my eyes. “You’re home alone, and I’m an old, unattached man. I have no business being here while your folks are out. It would give people the wrong idea.”

“People can and _will_ think whatever they want,” I countered, feeling my cheeks heat up with an unpleasant mixture of embarrassment, annoyance and self pity.

“True, but I don’t want negative rumors about you. You don’t deserve to be gossiped about—-“

“Wait!” I interrupted him, “did you say _unattached_?” I let go of the blanket he’d put around me earlier; the thing splotched wetly on the floor. “What happened to Cecilia?” My fingers dug into his bicep, desperation coloring my voice.

“Broke it off after New Year’s…” he trailed off, looking away from me, his ears and cheeks turned crimson.

“Was it because of the kiss?” I begged, tightening my grip on his arm.

Peeta gave an uncomfortable chuckle, and placed his big, warm hand over mine to gently pry my fingers from his muscle. He held my hand sandwiched between both of his.

“Katniss…kissing you has given me all kinds of anxiety. I lay in bed awake for hours, frightened of how it felt to kiss you. Then my mind goes to dark places, where we got caught kissing and it’s just...” he grimaced, “I just can’t…you deserve a man your age, Katniss, someone you can bring home to meet your folks, a person nobody will blink an eye at if they hold your hand in public, someone you can be proud of showing off...someone without baggage. I’m not that person, sweetheart. I’m one of your father’s best friends. I’m old and set in my ways. I’m no good for you.”

I yanked my hand from his and stared him down, with anger burning in my stomach.

“Don’t you dare, Peeta Mellark! Don’t tell me who’s good for me or not! That’s my decision, not yours, or my parents’, or the nosy people of Panem. I’m the one who decides who to kiss, fuck or have a crush on! Now, grab your food, and your hot chocolate, and your blanket, and leave me the hell alone!”

I had no idea how Peeta reacted to my outburst, because I ran off before he had a chance to respond. I locked myself in the bathroom before I did something stupid, like cry.

* * *

**February 14th, 5:05 p.m.**

> **Darius:** Good afternoon, Babe! Happy Valentine’s!
> 
>   
> **Darius:** Did you get my surprise?

Valentine’s Day fell on a Wednesday that year.

> **Me:** Hi! Happy Valentine’s. Yes, I got the flowers.

_Roses._

_I hate roses!_

I glanced at the bouquet Johanna had claimed for the squalid kitchen counter, and typed a quick “Thank you,” because my mother taught me manners. If I pouted while doing so was nobody’s business! 

> **Darius:** Did you like them?

_Be polite, be polite, be polite, be polite..._

> **Me:** The color is stunning. U don’t see peach roses very often.
> 
> **Darius:** I’m glad you liked them, babe! I hate I can’t see you today. I want you to know I’m thinking of you.
> 
> **Me:** Thanx

Ugh… romance was wasted on me.

> **Darius:** So, when will you be in town next? I was thinking that there’s no reason we can’t have a nice Valentine’s date, even if is not the 14th anymore 

I had been craving pizza for days, but even with a part time job, my feeding budget kept me on a strict diet of PB and J sandwiches, lots of top ramen, and the occasional bowl of cheap mac & cheese, so when Darius suggested a belated Valentine’s Day date, I enthusiastically accepted.

> **Me:** I’ll b home Fri. afternoon. We could grab a slice of pizza that evening, if U want!
> 
> **Darius:** Sounds great babe! I’ll rearrange my schedule accordingly!
> 
>   
> **Darius:** Can’t wait to see you!
> 
> **Me:** Yeah... yay 🍕!

Darius— bless his heart— wasn’t very fluent in ‘girl speak’; It didn’t completely register to him he’d been given specific instructions on what I wanted for our date, and not an idle suggestion. 

Friday evening, Darius drove us past any number of suitable pizza parlors, but took us to his house instead.

To say that all my alarm bells went off, was putting it mildly. My anxiety ratcheted all the way through the roof, taking my cellphone in hand just in case. 

_Would a police officer sense a 911 call on them?_

But my worriment was short-lived since his sister and her family joined us a few minutes later.

Lavinia, was a beautiful, slender woman, with long auburn hair and the complexion of a porcelain doll. She had a little boy that looked exactly how I pictured Darius as a toddler, and Sejanus—Lavinia’s husband— was tall, muscular and dark haired. If the guy’s skin had been a shade darker, or a more brooding disposition, he’d be a passable Gale doppelgänger.

I smirked, thinking how the Peace siblings seemed to have a _type_.

Dinner was nice. Relaxed. Simple. We had chili, homemade cornbread, and frito chips. For dessert we had vanilla ice cream topped with crumbled Oreos— Darius favorite, apparently.

Somehow we started talking about hunting and shooting and stuff. Sejanus was an excellent shot, almost as good as I, except with a shotgun, while my weapon of choice were the bow and arrows. Darius being a police officer was also a pretty good marksman, but he had never shot anything alive, which was good, considering his line of work.

Sejanus’ father was in the gun and munitions business, and made his family religiously practice shooting in their personal range every weekend. We just started bragging about our aiming and shooting skills.

”I can shoot any target without a scope, against the wind,”

“I shot an arrow through a squirrel’s eye from 20 feet away once.”

Darius whistled low, his eyebrows arched into his hairline. “Babe, I don’t know if that makes you sexier or scary as shit!”

I chortled.

“What do you do with a dead squirrel?” Asked Lavinia, scrunching her nose in disgust.

I laughed, “Eat it, believe it or not. In fact, we used to trade squirrels for bread, before Mr. Mellark retired and left his sons running the bakery. We don’t hunt ‘em anymore though. Not FDA approved and all that jazz.”

“I, myself, disliked guns and gore personally,” Said Sejanus, “but if you hunt to put meat on the table, then more power to you!”

“I didn’t know people still traded for goods like that,” Confessed Lavinia. “I know that back in the day people used to trade guns, knives, powder and other stuff for game and tobacco, I would’ve never thought people still did it,”

“That’s interesting,” Sejanus smirked, “if Katniss was a pioneer heading west, she’d probably be the wealthiest one out! All she had to do was go into the woods and shoot some stuff up and exchange it for whatever the heck she wanted!”

Darius grinned, “She’d lose all her wealth to me!”

“How you figure?” Asked Sejanus.

Darius pulled me bodily to him, wrapping his arms around my waist, “Everybody knows that redheads are the manliest, most talented, strongest specimens out there!” He pecked my temple, and I smiled uncomfortably at him, “She wouldn’t be able to resist my charm. She’d be buying my kisses left and right! Just one of my kisses would be worth at least two fat bunnies.” He pecked my lips.

I laughed a little. He was so goofy.

“Well, I guess that’s our cue to skedaddle out of here, Lav,” Sejanus muttered against Lavinia’s shoulder. Their son was fast asleep in her arms. “I think we’ve taken enough time from the lovebirds, already.”

Darius grinned, kissing my cheek. “It’s alright,” he drawled, “the night’s young yet,”

_Oh…_

Lavinia and Sejanus left a moment later, and Darius and I sat on his couch in a heavy silence.

“You look beautiful tonight, babe.” He mumbled, kissing my neck.

There was something inconsequential playing on the TV. The fact that It was the first time we’ve been truly alone since we started dating, wasn’t lost on me.

“Thank you,” I demurred, and let him tilt my head for a kiss on the lips.

I ain’t gonna lie, things didn’t start off innocently. On the contrary, I knew exactly well where we were heading as soon as Darius’ family left, and I was weirdly okay with it.

I was nervous, a tad apprehensive too, but it’d been so long since I’ve felt a lover’s touch, I found myself responding enthusiastically at Darius kisses; he’d been a gentleman so far; sure, it drove me insane that he kept calling me ‘babe’, and ordering for me and not really reading my unease about the public cuddling, but he was nice, funny and sweet for the most part. He was cute too…I figured a steamy make out session— maybe some dry humping— was in order.

I opened my mouth under Darius’, sliding my tongue against his. Our chests pressed tightly together, but our knees knocked uncomfortably against each other.

Darius' hands were in my hair, but came down to my shoulders, pushing me down into the armrest of his couch. Before I knew it, Darius was hovering above me, his body wedge between my legs, pressing his pelvis into mine.

It felt good. It was all expected and wanted. 

I moaned quietly into his mouth. 

He bit my lower lip, and snaked a hand under my sweatshirt and under shirt, taking a handful of my cotton covered breast, kneading and squeezing. A moment later, he mouthed my neck, and slipped his fingers under the soft cup of my bra, to rolled my nipple under ‘em. 

“Darius,” I gasped against his forehead.

I wanted him to slow down but he must’ve thought I was egging him on, because he scooped me up into his arms, hooking my legs around his hips, and lifted us off the couch. One of his hands slid into the back of my jeans, cupping a butt cheek. 

“What…are you doing?” I breathed out, mildly alarmed and confused.

“Gonna lock the doors, so we can go to bed for the night…”

 _Wait… what?!_

“Uh, I…I— I can’t spend the night!” I tensed up in his arms, and tried disentangle from his hold.

“Well, we will have to parcel our time wisely, then, because I don’t think one round of love making will be quite enough for me,”

“No,” I sighed. I didn’t even have to think about it.

Darius smiled, his eyes were all fat, dark pupils. Again, he misunderstood me. “I knew you’d agree,”

“No!” I said firmer, scowling for good measure.

“No? What do you mean?” He finally caught on that we were in fact not on the same page. 

I took advantage of his momentary confusion, and threw my legs out. The sudden movement made his arms slackened, so pushed myself back and shimmied off his body.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, frowning in bewilderment.

“I’m not ready for that,” I told him.

“For what, spending the night? That’s fine, Babe; we don’t have to spend the night together yet. We can have sex, and I’ll take you home, after.”

I scowled, “I’m not talking just about spending the night. I’m not ready for sex. Period!” I said forcibly.

That’s when his demeanor changed from confused to aggravated. “Babe, we’ve been together for two months, now—“

“Barely,”

“It’s the longest I’ve been in a relationship without being intimate with my partner, and I think it’s time to progress to the next level.”

“I disagree,”

“Why?” He half whined, half demanded.

“I was with Gale for almost six months before we even made it to second base! He was my best friend, who I’d known my whole life—”

“That denial of physical closeness is exactly the reason why he found comfort somewhere else! You pushed him away.”

“You’re blaming _me_ for getting cheated on by the guy who swore he’d wait for me until marriage?”

Darius huffed. “Marriage’s such an antiquated ideal! Just like virginity. Both are archaic social constructs, only obtuse people still hold up.”

I felt like he’d punch me in the gut, and slapped me on the face.

To hear him say those things, without even knowing how I felt about them, just made it crystal clear to me: I had nothing in common with Darius Peace, and I was not gonna waste anymore time on him.

My tone was level, terse. “I’m sorry you feel so strongly about marriage and the such. But I do believe in it. In fact, it is my goal to remain a virgin until I find the man that will be my husband—“

“You’re a virgin?” Darius asked, his eyes going round, “but…you and Gale—“

“Didn’t you hear what I just said?” I snapped, “Gale never pressured me into having sex. I wasn’t lying when I said he promised to wait until marriage…I just didn’t know he only meant he’d wait to sleep with me, but that didn’t apply to other people.”

I pulled my phone out of the back pocket of my jeans, and shot a quick text with a pin on my location. Then I scanned the place for my purse and coat and crossed the room to pick them up when I found them. 

“What are you doing?” Darius asked, slightly anxious, when started shrugging my coat on.

“I’m leaving,”

“Wha—? You can’t leave like that! Come, babe, let’s talk about th—“

“Please stop calling me _babe_!” I growled, “I hate that!”

Darius jumped back, hands in the air, “Okay! _Katniss_. Please, I’m sorry…nothing has come out right tonight,” he chuckled, “Seems I’m out of my game, with you. I wished you had an inkling of just how much I like you…golly! You make me so fucking nervous, I can’t act right, I keep putting my foot in my mouth, every time!” He tried to hold my hand, but I shook him off, “Come on, Katniss…gimme a chance to make things right…don’t leave angry.”

“I’m sorry, Darius. You’re nice, _and_ persistent… but, I just can’t—“

“Why not? We were having such a nice night! How did this evening turned into the proverbial Valentine’s Date from Hell?!”

I wheeled around, and pointed a finger into his chest, fed up. “I’ll tell you how! I said I wasn’t ready for sex, and you tried to push for more. Then you called me obtuse, because of my ideals, or dreams or whatever they are! To add insult to injury, you said Gale cheating on me was my own fault for not putting out! Lastly, and this might be an insignificant reason, but it’s a reason all the same…you order my food for me! I’m sorry, but that’s just rude and I’m tired of other people choosing _my_ food for _me_!”

“Are you serious right now, Katniss? You’re mad about food? And, I don’t think exactly like you do, so what?” He shook his head and threw his arms out, “that’s the most immature, unreasonable, dumb argument I’ve ever heard in my life.”

My heart stopped. My breath froze in my chest. My eyes bulged and my entire body trembled with rage.

I saw the moment panic filled Darius’ greenish eyes; he tried to backpedal, but the damage was done. “That came out wrong! Bab— _Katniss_ …”

“We should just stop seeing each other,” I didn’t have any energy left to yell at him. “This relationship ain’t going anywhere,”

“Are you breaking up with me over a minor disagreement?” Darius’ nostrils flared. “It’s only our first fight!”

I was momentarily frightened because he lumbered up towards me, towering well above my head. I stepped back, and luckily, found the front door right behind me.

“It’s not a minor disagreement, Darius!” I grunted, my head spinning with too many thoughts and emotions struggling to take control, “Marriage and sex aren’t minor issues. If you have to question my choice not to spend the night, or sleeping with you, then we are not fit for each other. We clearly want very different things. Is best if we just… stop.”

Darius covered his face and growled loudly into his hands, making me jump back. “You’re being unfair, Katniss! You can’t just decide we are a bad fit after one, measly, fight!”

“Maybe I am unfair. But I want a wedding, a veil and a white dress. I want my first time to be with the man I’m marrying, and I don’t want to be made feel dumb for wanting all that stuff. My daddy says that in a relationship, respect is key, and I discovered in the last 15 minutes that you have no respect for me... how could you? You just called immature, obtuse, unreasonable and dumb, to my face!” 

“No... just let me fix it!”

“I’m sorry Darius, I enjoyed myself tonight. Your family is great, but I just can’t be with a guy who doesn’t respect me, or my feelings and ideals.”

I turned around and bolted out of the house as fast as I could. Darius followed a second later, shivering in the cold February night.

“Where are you going? Katniss, wait! Let me drive you home at least! It’s freezing!”

He was right, it was cold and I was fairly far from my house, but I was done with him.

I turned on my heel, “I’ll be alright. Somebody is already coming for me,” At least I hoped so, since I hadn’t check my phone to make sure.

I started walking backwards, towards the mouth of the road, never taking my eyes off Darius, just in case. 

“Come wait inside where is warm if that's the case, then! Please!”

I shook my head, about to respond that I was fine. He took a step towards me, holding his hand out for mine. I just kept out of reach. 

A set of headlights shone on us, and my heart started beating harshly against my ribcage. I could feel the chili from earlier bubbling up in my stomach.

A car slowed to a stop next to me.

“Katniss!”

I turned my head to look at my caller, and relief washed over me when I found Annie’s green eyes boring into mine. I didn’t even question the fact that Annie was driving Peeta’s car. My knees started shaking. 

“Ready to go?”

I nodded and slinked my way to the copilot door. I waved goodbye to Darius weakly, and watched him cross his arms over his chest— whether to ward off the cold or as a sign of rejection, I knew not.

We stared at each other until Annie made a U turn and drove us off.

Once we turned the corner, and Darius was out of sight, I broke down crying.

“It’s okay, sweetling. You’re okay,” Annie hummed, rubbing my back with one hand, while steering with the other. “I’m here now. Your mom and dad are in my place, we can go there if you want, or I can take you home. Whatever you decide.”

“Is Peeta at your house too?”

Annie nodded. Then asked again, sweetly, “You wanna come to my house?”

“I don’t know,” I said sincerely, my tears had already stopped, but I knew Daddy would take one look at me and know something was wrong, “All I wanted tonight was a slice of pizza...” I trailed off, miserably.

Annie frowned, “Let’s grab a milkshake, and then we can see about that pizza,”

I nodded, aware that she was buying me time to collect myself, and for the puffiness in my face to go down... and for once, I was grateful Annie wasn’t as aloof as she appeared to be. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Groundhog Day:** Observed in USA, on February 2nd. Is the day a groundhog is said to come out of hibernation and out of his burrow. The traditions says that if the groundhog sees his own shadow (usually in sunny days), and runs scared back into his hole, there will be an extra six weeks of winter weather. Now, I’ve read that the reason groundhogs go back inside and resume hibernation, is because they don’t see any vegetation for the to eat at simple glance, so, they go back to bed for a few more weeks. The groundhog’s name 
> 
> **FDA:** stands for “food and drug administration”. This is the entity regulating that food and medicines are fit for consumption, in America. Normally, FDA only approves of meats you buy in the store, but people (specifically in the South) hunt and fish for eating, but you have to have a license, and can only hunt certain animals seasonally. Some animals can be hunted for sport, if they’re deemed harmful for an environment, for example people are encouraged to hunt pitons in the Florida Everglades because they are alien to Everglades and have cause severe damage for native species and their habitats.  
>    
> **Sejanus Plinth** is a character from The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes. A prequel to The Hunger Games series. If you haven’t read that yet, go do it now! I’m not trying to spoil anything, but his character in his original story is in fact a really accurate marksman, and his father does deal with munitions and weapons. 
> 
> This chapter was kind of hard to get out for various reasons. Mainly, time constrictions, but also I’m dealing with immigration and visa stuff for my mother, that has been stuck in the US with me since last February because of Covid. 
> 
> My husband got promoted (thank goodness) after a long stressful few months of uncertainty about his job security. His stress was causing me all kinds of writer’s block and I’m just glad that that’s over with. Now that he’s not stressed out, I can write more comfortably... Which is why this chapter was 11k words long before I started editing. 
> 
> Instead of shrinking with the edits, it grew to 14k words, so I had to split it into two. After a while pondering where it made sense to leave a cliffhanger connecting the two halves, I decided it was best to treat them as their own self contained chapters to make them more manageable. So, sorry it took me for freaking ever to update, but hey! No cliffy and the next chapter is already written, Yay! I’m still gonna take a while to post it, because it’s not edited yet 🙈... sorry.
> 
> Keep safe, social distance yourselves, be kind to everyone- you don’t know what annoyance they’re dealing with— comment below, and tell me how relieved you are to be done with Darius!

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi on tumblr @ alliswell21


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